How To Love
by 13211031
Summary: After Hermione is captured by Bellatrix Lestrange leading up to the final battle, she finds her self inexplicably drawn into the dark woman's world, with no way of knowing how much it is destined to consume her. Bellamione. M rating for language, for now.
1. Prologue

Okay so this is my first _proper_ fanfic, so go easy on me!

I have never written anything that has even a semblance of a plot before - in fact, my speciality is things with a spectacular _lack_ of plot - so constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated!

Also, although this story is definitely Bellamione, it is going to be a slow build up - just a pre-warning.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

* * *

 **Prologue:**

She came to with pain still radiating throughout her body, which only became worse when she tried to move. She groaned with the effort and the sound echoed, filling her with a sense of dread and realisation as it bounced off of the walls. The events of the past few hours flashed through her mind and settled sickeningly on one particular moment – a woman pinning her to the ground with a knee in her chest and her arm being agonisingly branded with an ironically non-magical weapon. _Mudblood._

Wandless… defenceless… she was at Malfoy Manor.

Fear allowed her to push past her pain long enough to sit up and she slowly took in her surroundings. A dank basement room, completely bare except for the bars which contained her. She wondered if this was where Harry and Ron had been.

 _Harry and Ron._

Her memories came flooding back to her once more. Bellatrix had grabbed her roughly as her friends disarmed the Malfoys, pressing the blade against her throat. From there, everything had happened so quickly that it felt like it had been a dream trying to recall it. The chandelier falling and her being thrown away from the other witch and into the arms of Ron. Just as the group came together to allow Dobby to apparate them, Bellatrix lunged at them and grabbed the nearest person – Hermione. A split second later she hit the ground and her friends were gone.

Silence had filled the air in the seconds that followed the deafening _crack_ ; and then suddenly the room erupted with furious shouting and uncontrollable sobbing. The last thing she saw was a frenzied Narcissa pushing Draco from the room – and then darkness.

So they had escaped. And she was left here – to what end she had no idea. She felt tears come but she swallowed them. There was no point in crying. She needed to get out of here – and soon.

Unfortunately, when she attempted to move, she fell back against the wall, gasping for air. Her body didn't want to comply, and she was in no fit state to fight.

It was the rattling of the lock being opened that woke her next, and she turned over to see who it was.

Draco mumbled the incantation several times before it worked, and she could see him trembling.

"Malfoy," She said croakily.

His head snapped up and he met her eyes, a look of terror on his face which he quickly endeavoured to hide.

"How long have I been here?" She asked, getting to her feet shakily. He was breathing deeply as he approached her and he continued to ignore her.

Once again, as he muttered an incantation to bind her hands, the wand he was using failed him. He swore, looking distressed, and Hermione saw her chance. She pushed him backwards with the intent of running past him, but his strength far outstripped hers and he grabbed her wrist before she could get away.

"Don't." He said softly. She was shocked to find that his voice held no aggression; he seemed to be advising her rather than threatening.

"Why are you tying me up? What are you doing with me?"

Draco sighed as his spell finally worked and Hermione found herself bound.

"You're being moved. You've been here for a few days, but you need some of your injuries treated."

"Where? Treated? Why would you help me?" There was a silence and Draco refused to meet her eyes.

"She… she wants you… alive."

"What?"

"She needs you alive." He repeated blankly. Then he pointed the wand at her shakily and finally met her eyes. Before everything went black once more, she saw him mouth ' _sorry_ '.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

The feel of soft sheets against her bare feet gave a beautiful illusion of home as she awoke. When she opened her eyes, the room was in darkness and it took a few seconds before the sense of fear set in. She could make out the silhouette of an ornate bookcase and a fancy dining chair against the wall on her right. There was a door which was wide open, showing her a closet-sized bathroom, and another on the other side of the room which was shut. There were no windows, and she wondered momentarily whether it was dark outside or just in here. Sitting up, her head was still banging and her arms and legs ached.

The thing that scared her the most, however, was how incredibly well she seemed to have been looked after. She could smell strawberry scented shampoo and her hair was soft as though someone had combed it. She suddenly noticed that atop the bookcase were her jeans and jumper, folded neatly, and she was wearing a long, white nightdress.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made her push her head back into the pillow and pull the luxurious duvet around herself protectively. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited several long seconds in silence before the door creaked open and two sets of footsteps sounded against the wooden floor. With her ears pressed between cushion and duvet, she could only just make out that they were talking very softly. One of the voices was childlike and the other was unmistakably a woman. She was sure she could guess who the woman was – a feeling of icy fear flooded over her and her heart almost beat out of her chest. The conversation did not sound friendly.

The voices stopped as both people reached the side of her bed. Without warning, a hand grabbed her face and moved it to one side. The shock caused her to let out a fearful gasp, and she opened her eyes instinctually. If she had been scared before, nothing could have prepared her for how she felt with her face inches from that of Bellatrix Lestrange.

The woman let go of her face and turned to the house elf standing next to her.

"You didn't tell me she was awake!" She hissed, looking murderous.

"She wasn-" The elf began, but she shh'ed him angrily and looked back at Hermione.

The younger witch had to force herself to not shut her eyes once more. The images conjured by the sight of Bellatrix's terrible, beautiful face made her want to be sick, and she realised that she was trembling.

This wasn't lost on the older woman, and a satisfied smirk appeared on her face. She held up her wand and Hermione was sure that she was about to be subjected to another _crucio_. A second later, she would wish that she'd had enough foresight to consider what Bellatrix needed her for – maybe then she would have been able to try to stop her.

But instead her mind was suddenly racing in a way she had never felt before. Thoughts of childhood birthdays, days out and nights in filled her head. For a second she thought that this was it; she was about to die. What people said about your life flashing before your eyes was true. And then she realised.

In her sudden desperation to try and block her memories from the other woman, she couldn't help but to think of the one thing that she knew she shouldn't. _The horcruxes_.

She thought of the locket – the days that they spent wearing it… Ron's temper; Harry's hopelessness. And then Harry coming back with Ron – with the sword – with the broken locket. And then she was released, and she was lying back against the lovely bed, sweating, with tears she hadn't known she was shedding running down into her hair. That was it. It was all over.

When the two witches' eyes met, the look on Bellatrix's face made Hermione shut her eyes and throw her arms over her face for protection.

When no blow came, she slowly brought them down again.

She was alone, and the darkness in the room had been replaced by a dim, artificial light. Streaming in through the door. The door that had been left wide open.

Adrenaline raced through Hermione's veins as she realised what had just been set in motion. If she didn't get out of here now, she was going to be tortured to within an inch of her life. Bellatrix knew about the horcruxes – she probably only had minutes until Voldemort himself knew also. Despite her legs screaming with pain, the shock allowed her to jump from the bed and stride over to the door, her dress billowing behind her. She was about to walk through and somebody grabbed her hand. She whipped around.

"Don't try to go, Miss, you will only get hurt." Said the solemn voice of the house elf she had seen earlier.

"I need to get out of here! She'll be back any second and she'll kill me!" She looked at him, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't been ordered to stop her from leaving. Without a wand she was completely defenceless, she stood no chance against the elf. She willed him to understand how desperately she needed to leave, and to take pity on her, but his grip did not falter.

"The door. It won't allow you to leave – it will hurt you. It has protections placed on it. And don't worry, Mistress Bellatrix will not hurt you."

Hermione closed her eyes. Was it worth the risk? There was no reason to not trust the elf – of course the door had such protections on it. Why would it not? But the thought of sitting here as the beginning of the final battle unfolded filled her with a sickening panic. What would Voldemort do now? How was Harry ever going to find the horcruxes now that Voldemort knew they were being hunted? The past few minutes had changed the course of everyone's lives forever. A moment of weakness – taking her eyes off the ball for one minute. The things she normally berated others for.

As she sank to the floor, her legs weak once again, she couldn't get the image of Bellatrix's face out of her mind. The mixture of emotions that had been etched there in the split second she had looked. Realisation, anger, shock… and _fear_.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thankyou so much to everyone who subscribed/favourited/reviewed, I was really nervous about posting this, and you have made me feel a little better about it!

I didn't think to mention previously - but from this chapter onwards, I will be using a bit of artistic license when it comes to a lot of DH stuff. There may be things that will make you go _what?_ But you'll kinda just have to trust me and go with it... It will all be explained in the end, I promise!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

The hours that followed felt like years to a frantic Hermione. She had sat on the floor, her breathing laboured, for a long time to try and work up some energy to think of a plan.

She leaned over and looked under the bed, desperately searching for something, _anything_ , that could help her to escape the room. After his warning, the house elf had left quietly and locked the door back up behind him, so the room was once again bathed in darkness. It had taken her eyes a while to readjust, but now everything looked dimly black and white. If she hadn't been so wired with shock, she would have been terrified.

Her mind couldn't concentrate on one singular train of thought long enough to think of what she should do next. Ideas of what could possibly be happening outside these four walls made her heart hurt. Initially, she was scared of the moment that someone came to the door to retrieve her. After a while, she was scared they never would.

She wondered what would happen if Voldemort won. If he found Harry – if he killed him. What would happen to her? Would they just forget about her, and leave her here to rot? Or would they bring her out – torture her for sport in their jubilation? She thought of her friends, wondered where they were. Whether they knew yet. She hoped beyond hope that Voldemort's anger had allowed Harry into his mind so that he at least knew what they now faced. She hoped they were with the Order, with someone who could give them some advice. She couldn't bear a second longer of not _knowing_ anything. Her outlet for frustration had always been to formulate a plan – read something, research something. Find out everything she could and think of a solution. But this time she had created the problem, and there was no perceivable way that she could ever rectify it.

She crawled over to the door and pressed her ear against it, but she heard nothing. In her frustration, she banged her fist against the door with as much effort as she could muster; when it made contact with the door however, she couldn't stop herself from screaming. Instinctively she tucked her hand into her armpit in agony, a white hot pain pulsing through her hand and goosebumps erupting all over her body. When she brought it shakily up the face to inspect it, she knew instantly that she had been burned. The skin along one edge of her hand was a raw, angry red and blisters were already forming. She straightened it out and couldn't stop herself from gasping with the pain. She looked back at the door. Reached out a finger; touched it again. Nothing. It only hurt her when she was trying to escape.

What was this place? Malfoy Manor? There was something odd about the room, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was just a little too nice for a prison cell.

When she looked around once more, she realised she hadn't taken it in properly when she first woke up. She reached up to touch the wallpaper. It had a deep-coloured (though she couldn't have said _what_ colour) damask pattern, with dark wooden skirting boards. The floor was made of a similar wood, but it was unpolished. The effect was that the room seemed as though it had not been entered for many years. But why was there no windows? Maybe servants quarters – though that made no sense whatsoever in the wizarding world.

She crawled over to the bookcase. It was short, only three shelves, but the books were packed tightly together on it. It was precisely this piece of furniture that made her uneasy. This room must _belong_ to somebody. If the room had been bare apart from the bed, she might have believed that her captors had put aside the room as a special cell just for her. These books made it seem instead like she was in their home. Personal items that belonged to someone.

Or maybe she was sentimentalising it because of her own nature... maybe they were just old books that had been forgotten. Maybe she just wanted _something_ to contemplate because she was scared she'd been left there to die.

She ran her finger along their spines. The top shelf were books that she had seen before, and it only took her a few seconds to realise that the majority of them were books that she had read for school – albeit some of them much older editions. The second and third shelf were filled with things she had never seen before. She pulled one out at random, and discovered that it wasn't in English. With a quick flick through she recognised it was German. Unable to decipher it, she put it back and picked out another. Also German. And another; French this time. The rest of them were all the same – French or German.

She sighed, resting her forehead against the shelf and closing her eyes. _What do I do?_

Suddenly, she heard the familiar sound of the key in the lock and the air left her lungs. She scrambled backwards to put some distance between herself and the person on the other side of the door. Her back hit the wall as she realised it was just the house elf.

"Miss!" He squeaked. "You should get back in bed! You must be cold!"

Although she knew the room was cold, she was burning up. She had ignored it up to this point, too distracted to notice, but now she realised how terrible she truly felt. Obeying, she dragged herself back into the bed and the elf stood patiently where he had stood a few hours ago.

When she was seated, he conjured a tray with tea and toast and passed it to her. Hermione accepted it without even looking at it.

"Where is she? Is He here?" She whispered forcefully, her eyes wide with desperation.

"Mistress is asleep. Who is 'he'?" The elf answered calmly.

 _Asleep?!_ "What?! Why? Has anyone been here?"

The elf nodded in the direction of the food: "You need to eat, Miss, you have to get better."

She suddenly felt ashamed of herself for being disrespectful to him. He was obviously the one who had been nursing her so carefully.

"What's your name?" She asked gently. When she saw that he was still looking at the food, she brought the teacup to her lips as a peace offering.

"Ruffle, Miss."

"Ruffle, is it you that has been looking after me?" She started on the toast, suddenly realising how ravenous she had been.

"Yes, Miss, Ruffle will be looking after you for the remainder of your stay."

"My stay? When will I leave?"

"Ruffle isn't given that kind of information. Only that he is to look after you until you leave. Make sure you get better."

Hermione was stumped. She was sure that Ruffle had been given direct orders about what he was to tell her and what to leave undisclosed.

"Can you tell me who has been here today?"

"Just you and Mistress Bellatrix, Miss."

"Where are the Malfoys?"

"At Malfoy Manor."

"What? Where am I?"

"Black Manor."

"Black Manor?" The question wasn't aimed at Ruffle. Why was she here? Why had they moved her? The idea only served to make her more worried.

"So Bellatrix has been here all day?" _What was going on_?

"Oh no, Miss, Mistress went to visit her sister earlier. She wasn't there long, and when she came back Ruffle gave her a sleeping draught."

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Ruffle, can you tell me if you have been ordered to not tell me anything in particular?"

"Ruffle has not been ordered to withhold anything from you, Miss. What do you want to know?"

"Was Bellatrix excited… was she celebrating?"

"On the contrary Miss, she wasn't happy at all. That's why Ruffle gave her the sleeping potion."

The confusion that was building up inside Hermione's head threatened to spill over. She wanted to scream with frustration. There was no way she was going to find out what was going on. And if Bellatrix was unhappy… well surely that couldn't be a good thing. Perhaps Voldemort had punished her as the bearer of bad news. All she could do was thank her lucky stars that the older woman had bypassed her as an outlet for her anger; though she suspected this was probably because she was too weak to survive another crucio. _For now._

Her mind wandered back to Bellatrix torturing her at Malfoy Manor; the whole thing felt like a blur, and yet it was painfully clear in her mind at the same time. Then the goosebumps on her skin were back and she pushed her legs under the duvet. She thought of how her friends had escaped and she suddenly realised what she had to do.

"Ruffle! I need you to do something for me."

"What, Miss?"

"Can you take me somewhere with side-along apparation?"

Ruffle hung his head.

"Ruffle hasn't been told to not _tell_ you anything Miss, but Ruffle is not allowed to let you leave this room. That was the order."

Of course it was.

"Ruffle, I need to get out of here. I know what you've been told to do, but this is important. It's important for our _world_. I need you to get me out of here."

Ruffle shook his head sadly.

"Miss, Ruffle cannot apparate in and out of this room, even if he wanted to. Nobody can. It is impossible. That is why you are here."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again with a sigh. Right… well that explained why she was here. Her captors didn't want her to use the same getaway as her friends had.

"Ruffle will be back to check on you in the morning, Miss. Please eat as much as possible. You will feel better if you do."

Without another word, the elf left and locked the door behind him.

Hermione pushed the tray to the end of the bed, knowing that he was right about her getting better, but not able to face even the blandest meal. The elf's visit had raised more questions than it answered; and she now knew that her captors were not being careless in their holding of her. They really didn't want her to escape. She just hoped beyond hope that nobody would try to rescue her and fall into a trap at Malfoy Manor.

Her eyes were drawn back to the bookcase. She already knew that of the books she had read, there was nothing that could help her. They were all full of basic spells, and she had all but memorised them during her studies anyway – if there had been anything in there, she would have been able to recall it.

It was possible that the foreign-language books would contain something of use, especially in a house whose inhabitants were known to be skilled dark wizards. Unfortunately, she knew that learning anything that could help her out of her present position would require a lot of hard work – and understanding the theory was imperative to that.

She lowered herself back down to the floor as a particular volume caught her eye. _Hogwarts, A History._ She pulled it out slightly in order to take a better look at the cover. It was nothing like the copy that she herself owned. It felt light and cheap compared to hers. It was a gaudy scarlet with gold lettering, and when she took it out completely, the cover sagged around the pages, cardboard showing through. With it in her hands, she knew something about it wasn't right. She had held her own copy of this book a thousand times, and this barely weighed half what hers did. When she flicked open the first page, she realised why.

Instead of the pages of information, the middle of each one had been torn away until a small compartment remained. Hermione frowned as she picked out the three small, nondescript items which were inside.

The first thing was a nail varnish – muggle. She turned it over in her hands, wondering how it has earned its place in this hiding spot. It was a deep red colour, and it looked a little worse for wear- the liquid was separated and dry. She tried to open it but to no avail.

The second was a shiny, black satin ribbon, rolled up into a perfect fat circle. This she replaced when the third item caught her eye.

The only thing that she could make any sense of was this last object. It was a small photograph, similar to a Polaroid. Black and white, and tattered around the edges. It was, of course, a magical picture, in which the people moved, and she held it close to her face to make it out.

It was a photograph of three little girls, the Black sisters she presumed, since she was in their house. Bellatrix couldn't have been more than five, Narcissa simply a baby and Andromeda somewhere between the two. It seemed that the photo had been taken professionally, because none of them looked particularly at ease and they were dressed in matching dresses. White – so ironically pure-looking considering their family's ideals. Andromeda held onto Narcissa's hand and stroked her hair, not looking comfortable herself but obviously trying to keep her little sister happy. For a second, the baby smiled at her sister's caress and Hermione was saddened by the knowledge of what the years had done to the two sisters.

It had struck Hermione immediately upon meeting Andromeda for the first time how alike her and Bellatrix were physically, but her personal observations of the two women had not done justice to quite how similar. They could have been twins – they both had masses of dark curls and pretty, pink cheeks. They looked almost angelic. The thing that made Hermione most uncomfortable about it, however, was the same thing that really set them apart: their expressions. Hermione was suddenly filled with the disturbing notion that perhaps Bellatrix had been _born_ evil. Her face was beautiful, but filled with a look that one wouldn't associate with a five-year-old. She looked silently angry, like she was holding something back. Detached. Hollow. _Brooding._ She was standing behind her two sisters, but instead of looking at them, she seemed to look right through them, one of her small hands gripping Andromeda's arm just a little too tightly.

Something about it tugged on her heart. How could indoctrinating children really be so powerful? The malice with which she had been tortured for fun by the eldest Black sister would be etched into her mind until the day she died. What had their childhood been?


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

When Hermione awoke, she had a defence against the dark arts textbook in her lap, and she didn't remember having fallen asleep. She must have been out a while though, as there was a tray holding more tea and toast sat on top of the chair, indicating that Ruffle had already been. _It must be morning_.

She closed the textbook and dropped it onto the ground next to her bed. The purpose of reading it had been purely so that she didn't go insane – she had long since realised that there was no way Bellatrix would have left anything that would be of any use to her. She was trapped.

Her mind rolled endlessly over the possibilities of what was going on outside, and she wrapped herself up in the duvet, hugging it. She felt like she was waiting to die.

When she heard the key turn in the lock this time, she didn't move. She didn't even look up. She stayed in her cocoon. She thought of Harry and Ron and her mum and dad. She was emotionally exhausted, not even scared anymore.

So when Bellatrix's face came into view, she stopped herself from flinching. If she was going to be tortured again, she was not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she was broken.

The older woman didn't look happy, but strangely she didn't look angry either. If her face had been gaunt and pale before, it was nothing to how she looked now. Her hair was frizzy and untamed, her eyes sunken and dark-rimmed. She looked tired.

She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again. She held up a vial.

"You're going to tell me everything. I don't want to waste this veritaserum, but if I have to, I will." She spoke swiftly and blankly. There was none of the usual malice or even her childlike mocking. Just blankness.

Hermione didn't move. "What do you want to know?"

Bellatrix's brow furrowed in anger, then she grabbed the younger girl's wrist and yanked her into an upright position.

"Are you not scared, mudblood? You should be!" She breathed angrily.

Hermione just looked at her. She could see that the woman had no wand. And she could tell that this was all front. There was something not right about the way that she was acting. A tiny little bit of hope sparked in her chest – maybe Voldemort was losing. She sat up.

"What do you want to know?" She repeated.

"Everything. Starting from the horcruxes and ending with how you got into my vault. Truth this time please. I might not have a wand, but I have no problem torturing you with my _bare hands_." She emphasised the last two words, seeming to enjoy the prospect and finally letting through a spark of her usual malice.

Hermione wondered whether she would be able to try and fight back if all they each had was physical strength. Then her breath was taken away with the memory of a knee in her chest. This woman wasn't just incredibly talented with magic, she was also physically capable. She was probably three or four inches shorter than Hermione, but Bellatrix wasn't likely to hold back, and Hermione was still weak from their last run in. The idea of being beaten to within an inch of her life was less than appealing.

"I – we – didn't get into your vault." She said finally. She braced herself for some kind of attack, but it didn't come. Bellatrix closed her eyes and muttered something to herself angrily. Hermione got the feeling that she was missing something.

"Where did you get the sword? Who gave it to you?"

"Nobody gave it to us. Harry found it… in a forest, near where we were camping."

"Found it?" Bellatrix sighed in annoyance, seeming to indicate that her patience was being tested.

"Yes. He found it."

"You don't just find things lying on the ground in a forest. _Not_ things that were previously in _my vault._ Who gave it to him? Don't lie to me!"

"There was a patronus. Nobody was around that he could see... But the patronus led him to the sword."

Bellatrix lowered her eyes once more, fiddling with the vial in her hands. It was a few moments before she spoke.

"A doe." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Hermione's heart beat fast when she heard the words. Bellatrix knew who'd sent the sword – and she wasn't happy about it. Her face was blank once more, but Hermione had never seen the woman look so human before. Her skin was dull and lifeless, but human. Dejected. There was an emotion emanating from her that wasn't anger or disturbed excitement. Something she couldn't put her finger on.

"Who?"

"You're meant to be a clever girl! Guess!" Bellatrix spat. She didn't look up, instead focusing on the floorboards thoughtfully as if trying to work something out.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but she couldn't. She didn't know. If she had, maybe things would have worked out differently.

Bellatrix finally met her eyes. "Snape."

A million rebuttals fired up in Hermione's mind, but she didn't voice a single one. Each one came and went, and she was unable to justify the idea that it wasn't him.

"Death eaters can't produce a patronus." She answered finally.

Bellatrix threw herself angrily out of her chair and across to the other side of the room.

" _Why_ they call you clever, I will never know. He's _not_ a death eater, you stupid little mudblood. He's pretending to be one."

"He killed Dumbledore. He pretended to be a member of the order!" Hermione shot back. It made no sense whatsoever. Why would Snape help Harry? It was ridiculous.

"He _had_ to kill Dumbledore. I made sure of that myself when my idiot sister made the unbreakable vow with him. He had no choice."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Too many thoughts were flying around her head for her to make sense of any of them.

"How did he get the sword then?"

Bellatrix slammed her fist against the top of the bookshelf. " _I_ am the one questioning _you_ , you filthy little girl. I'm not asking for your opinion. I know it was Snape."

The older woman ran her finger over the spines of the books on the shelf in much the same way as Hermione had done herself yesterday.

"The horcruxes then. How many have you destroyed?"

"Just two."

" _Just two!_ " Bellatrix imitated her voice. " _Oh_. Just two! That's okay then."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Hermione – and it made her feel better. Bellatrix's unusual attitude suddenly made a lot of sense. She was scared. She thought they were going to win.

"Voldemort is going to kill Snape." She said quietly.

"You _dare_ use his name! He's not going to kill Snape. Idiot."

"Why?"

Bellatrix pulled a book off the shelf and opened it absentmindedly.

"He doesn't know." She said simply. She replaced the book with great care, and the turned to look at Hermione, who had been watching her. The look on her face seemed to dare the younger girl to say something. She seemed torn between her usual kind of manic excitement and white hot anger. Hermione didn't rise to the bait.

"He doesn't know." Bellatrix repeated loudly, with an air of mock happiness. "And he's not going to."

"Why?"

"Why? Why? Why? _Why?!_ " Bellatrix mocked, throwing her arms in the air and finally seeming like her normal insane self. "Because you've won!"

A few seconds of silence stretched out between them. And then without warning, Bellatrix grabbed her shoulders, nails biting into her skin painfully, and she shook her violently.

"You don't seem very excited! I said; you and your filthy band of blood traitors have won!"

Hermione's head spun with the movement and she tried to wrench the strong hands from her shoulders by grabbing the older woman's wrists.

"Why didn't you tell him?!" She asked, her brain scrambled and throbbing painfully.

She was slammed against the bars at the head of the bed and released.

"As if I would tell you."

* * *

A/N: I have became aware upon re-reading this to post it that not a lot makes sense at the moment, but as I said in the previous chapter, you'll just kinda have to trust me! All will become clear in time :)


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Another six days passed before Hermione saw another soul. She had found herself suddenly able to sleep a lot more – not from comfort, but from the exhaustion of going over things in her mind constantly. As a result, she had not seen Ruffle, just found herself with trays of food and the occasional pain potion left on the chair.

She had had a lot of time to psychoanalyse Bellatrix's short lived questioning, but unfortunately she couldn't seem to extract a great deal of meaning from it. She wished she had pushed her more. At least if she had seen fit to torture her she might have riled her to the point of admitting something of what was truly going on outside this room. The knowledge that Bellatrix believed they were going to win meant that she no longer brooded helplessly about that; but she wasn't foolish enough to presume that that meant that her life would be spared. It was all a waiting game.

And the lack of distraction meant that when she heard raised voices very distantly from outside the door, she noticed immediately. Sensing that she wouldn't be able to rest her ear against the door, she settled for holding herself, very uncomfortably, about a centimetre away.

The more vocal of the two was Bellatrix herself, whose tone went from being livid to defeated to comforting and back again periodically. The other person, whoever it was, wasn't nearly as forthcoming, and all Hermione could hear from them was the occasional murmur.

Finally, Bellatrix raised her voice: "I'm going to have to _obliviate_ you Cissy! For Gods' sake _pull yourself together_!"

So it was Narcissa. Her reply sounded somewhat like a whimper, but Hermione had the feeling that she just couldn't hear what she was saying. She strained her ears to hear, wishing she could rest against the door.

Their conversation continued, frustratingly for Hermione, in hushed tones for a while.

And then Narcissa finally "pulled herself together":  
"I am not a child, Bella, give me _some_ fucking credit. I don't want to be here, I have no choice! He's my son. The Dark Lord will _not_ get access to my mind, I assure you! Besides, _you_ are the one acting strangely. _I'm_ not going to be the one in trouble."

Bellatrix let out a frustrated sound, and Hermione could sense that they were moving by a change in volume. It sounded like they were now on the landing.

"The dark lord knows _nothing_ of how I feel, I am not an emotional wreck like you Narcissa."

"But _I_ know." Narcissa paused. She sounded upset rather than angry now. "I can tell something's not right Bella. I _know_ you. And if you know something that ends up hurting my son, I will never forgive you."

Bellatrix sighed. If Hermione hadn't known it was her, she wouldn't have believed the regret she heard in it had come from the evil woman.

"We can keep him safe. You know I would never let anything hurt you."

"We? Honestly, it has been eight years since I have been able to keep _anything_ safe, Bella. I wouldn't have come here, I wouldn't have _risked everything_ to come here, if I thought I had any control over my life."

There was a long silence, maybe a few minutes. Hermione wondered whether Narcissa had left in her fit of anger. But then Bellatrix spoke:

"Look, it's too dangerous for me to explain. But when we go into that final battle, we're going to make sure you and Draco aren't there."

"We're going to lose." Narcissa said. Hermione could tell from her tone that it was an unwanted confirmation of what she had already suspected.

Silence.

"What about you?" Narcissa said quietly.

Silence again.

"Bella, you're not going out there, knowing you're going to be killed?" Narcissa's anger was all but gone, and her voice quivered.

"Don't fucking cry, Cissy. It's our own doing."

" _None_ of this is our fucking doing, you utter twat." Narcissa's voice cracked. Then Hermione heard desperate sobs.

"I have no life, Cissy. You have your son. _You_ were a victim in this. Once it's all over, you can keep your head down and get on with your life, the way it was meant to be." Her tone was so tender that Hermione was taken aback.

"You are just as much a victim in this as me, if not more." Narcissa replied softly. Her breathing was laboured from her hysterical tears.

"I have never been a victim Narcissa. I have always known exactly what I was doing."

"But do you know why?"

Bellatrix sighed once more, ignoring her. "If I don't die in battle, I will only be captured when they win. And I will not spend the remainder of my life in Azkaban. I can't." If Hermione hadn't known better, she might have thought she heard her voice breaking slightly. Narcissa's cries started up again at that.

"I can't do this Bella, I can't do it!"

"You can. I won't let anything happen to you."

"You never do. But when are you going to stop letting things happen to yourself? I need you."

After waiting for a long time, Hermione realised that the conversation had either relocated or was now over. She rubbed her aching neck and lay back against the floor. What she had just heard made her question everything. She knew she shouldn't be so compassionate but she couldn't help it. It was her biggest weakness.

The thought of Draco's mother being so terrified for his life made her heart hurt. Anyone could see that Draco wasn't evil – an arsehole, maybe – but not evil. She wondered for the first time whether she had been blind to some of the victims of this war.

But what shocked her the most was Bellatrix. Had she been told that Narcissa was a loving mother who just happened to be in a precarious position, she would have accepted it in a heartbeat. Motherly love was something she understood.

But Bellatrix. The way she had spoken to her sister – the genuine emotion in her voice, the determination to protect her against the odds. Her barely hidden fear of Azkaban. Fear. It was disturbing. Hermione couldn't help but register the humanity of all living things, but she had to admit to herself that she had never seen Bellatrix as anything more than a monster. It sickened her slightly to think it, knowing that it went against everything she stood for.

She rose from the floor and opened the copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ again. She pulled out the ribbon to get to the photo and held it up once again, squinting in the darkness. She wondered if her feelings about Bellatrix had made her view the picture wrongly the first time. She was just a little girl after all…

This time when she looked, she wondered whether the young Bellatrix was sadder than she was angry. It truly was not an expression one normally saw on a child's face… but with the echo of Bellatrix's tender revelation that she would do anything for her sister still plaguing her mind, she couldn't help but view it more forgivingly.

Narcissa's closing question: _When are you going to stop letting things happen to yourself?_ Played on her mind. She didn't know how it felt to have a sibling… and the helplessness that Narcissa had displayed was something she'd never had to feel. But for some reason, she felt their pain deeply. Of course, she was scared for the war too – but she couldn't imagine going in knowing someone she cared deeply for would be killed for certain.

...Then her thoughts were interrupted by the door being blasted open. She scrambled up onto her knees and tried to force the photo and ribbon back into the book, shoving it back onto the shelf. It was too late however, because as Narcissa entered the small room, her eyes fell on Hermione's actions immediately. Her eyes went wide.

"You shouldn't be touching my sister's things if you want to keep your hands!" She hissed, before pointing her wand at the door and casting a silencing spell.

She walked over to Hermione, who cowered slightly, unaware of the woman's intentions. Instead, however, she just reached past her and picked up the book.

"I need you to do something for me." Narcissa said in a business-like manner. She slowly took out the photograph and looked at it intently, as Hermione had been moments before.

"How can I do anything when you're keeping me prisoner?" Hermione replied confidently, knowing that she had a much better chance of getting information out of Narcissa than Bellatrix if she could keep her talking.

"Being insolent won't help you." The older woman replied. "But if everything works out, I will let you go."

"How generous of you."

"Think before you speak, mudblood. You may not be scared of me, but my sister is sitting about four rooms over, and she would have no problem coming in and torturing you to within an inch of your pathetic life."

"If your sister knew we were having this conversation, you wouldn't have cast a silencing spell."

Narcissa's gaze finally found her, her beautiful features displaying a look of half-hearted anger that made her look almost childlike. Anyone would've been able to tell that her threats were empty – Narcissa was upset, and she was barely hiding it. Hermione suddenly felt inexplicably embarrassed that she had listened in on their personal conversation, wishing she didn't know what was upsetting the woman so much.

Narcissa placed the picture back in the box gently and took out the ribbon with a sad look in her eyes. She tucked it into her hand and put her hand in her pocket in a way that she clearly thought was subtle.

"What do you want me to do?" Hermione asked finally. Her voice came out much friendlier than she had hoped it would.

"I need you to hold Bellatrix hostage."

"What? _Why?!_ " Hermione thought she could probably guess why – but she didn't want Narcissa to know that.

"When we go into the final battle, she cannot go."

"Why?"

"There's no need for me to elaborate… What you need to do is just keep her in this house until I return. I don't know when this will be…" Narcissa sucked in a breath, making her sorrow obvious yet again. "But I presume it will be in the next few weeks."

"How do you expect me to hold Bellatrix hostage without her killing me?"

Narcissa pulled her hand out of her pocket and produced a wand, holding it out to her. Hermione took it and twirled it between her fingers in disbelief. Was this woman delusional enough to believe she wouldn't use this to escape?

"Bella does not currently have a wand, so you have quite an advantage."

"Why can't you just do it? Why _me_?"

"I am going into hiding when I leave here. There is nobody I trust to do this for me."

"You trust me?" Hermione looked at the older woman with wide eyes.

Narcissa snorted. "Of course not. I know that the second I turn my back you'll stun me and run for the hills! That's why we're going to make the unbreakable vow."

Hermione frowned. "Why should I? I've got this wand, I could just duel you right now."

"You won't." Narcissa met her eyes, sure of herself. This angered Hermione somewhat.

"And what makes you think that?" Hermione asked aggressively.

"Because you'll do the right thing. That's what you people always do." Narcissa kept her voice light, but Hermione could sense a slight bitterness in it.

"I can't imagine a universe where anyone would agree that saving Bellatrix Lestrange was the 'right thing' to do."

Narcissa sighed – it was somewhere between sad and angry. "That's the problem with you people. You think right and wrong is so black and white."

Hermione ripped up her sleeve and lunged forward, forcing Bellatrix's handiwork into Narcissa's face. The older woman stepped back, her eyes full of terror.

"If you're going to try and justify Bellatrix's actions, you're preaching to the _wrong_ person. She is a sick, twisted psychopath, devoid of even a semblance of humanity. There is not one _right_ thing about her." Hermione spat. Narcissa pushed her chin into the air, seeming to try to hold it together.

"You know nothing."

"I know that she tortures people for sport. She enjoys causing unbearable pain to people she doesn't know, for reasons which don't hold up under any real scrutiny. She is evil."

"Nobody is evil."

"Do you really believe that?"

"You do too. I saw what you were looking at when I came in. You were listening to us."

"How…?"

"It was obvious. I saw it in your eyes looking at that picture. You were confused."

Narcissa approached the bookshelf again to retrieve the photo. She turned her back on Hermione casually, and that was when she realised that Narcissa really did have her sussed. She could easily have stunned the woman, but she didn't – and Narcissa had known that she wouldn't.

She turned back to the younger girl, her eyes not leaving the photograph.

"She needs help. She needs to be sectioned – but she's not evil."

"That's what you want to do with her after the war? Why don't you just tell her?" Hermione asked quietly. The mood between them had shifted somewhat.

"She won't be locked up. It's her worst nightmare. But she needs it."

A silence stretched between them. Then Narcissa met her eyes once more.

"This is her old room you know. The best place we could think of to hold someone hostage is her _childhood bedroom_." Narcissa let out a small bitter laugh, and her eyes betrayed her. She tried to appear stony-faced but the sadness was etched into her expression. Hermione remained silent – she wasn't sure what she could say.

She had known from the minute she had woken up in this room that something was not right. She'd been able to sense it. And now it dawned on her... It wasn't _her_ prison; she'd just been placed there. The candid nature of Narcissa's revelation made Hermione want to comfort her in some way, but she knew that that would be insanity.

And she knew now that she would do what Narcissa asked, because she could see what the older woman was getting at – it was the right thing to do.

The only problem was the glaring flaw in her plan.

"How is vol…" She stopped herself quickly. "How is he not going to notice that she is missing?"

"I will take care of that." Narcissa said briskly. She had been staring at the photograph again, but her eyes now snapped back to Hermione's. "I will take care of everything outside of this house. You just need to hold her here, when I send you the message."

Hermione just nodded in acknowledgement, and Narcissa walked over to her.

"In the meantime, don't do anything to upset my sister. Don't make her attack you. And if you need anything, ask Ruffle. You look weak, and you should have recovered by now. Get yourself as healthy as you can. Bella will put up a fight, and you need to be ready to resist it."

Hermione nodded once more, feeling unable to speak. There was an uneasiness rising in her chest as she agreed, knowing there was nothing she could do about it. The anticipation of what was to come filled her with dread and excitement – she was terrified of what she would have to do, but there was finally some hope of her escaping these four walls.

"Do you have a light?" Narcissa asked. Her expression was unreadable once again, and Hermione noted the blonde woman's constant need to cover up any emotion that revealed a sense of pity or humanity. It seemed that this was something else the Black sisters had been taught.

"No." She replied, finding herself unconsciously emulating the older woman's tone.

Narcissa looked around the room thoughtfully.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I'm trying to think of a way of lighting this room without Bella knowing I was here, should she come in."

"I have this?" Hermione said, indicating the wand in her hand. "I can just put it out when I hear someone coming."

"Like you put away the things you were looking at when I came in? I don't think so. You shouldn't use that whilst you are in this room. Even to defend yourself. Especially to defend yourself – Bellatrix must not know."

Hermione nodded again, and kept her annoyance to herself. She didn't appreciate being treated like a child.

Narcissa moved over to the door and looked at it for a second. Then she crossed back to the bookshelf and looked for a second before selecting a book and opening it as if searching for something in particular.

Hermione couldn't make out the title, but she knew that it was one of the French books – she had been going through the books for the past week or so and knew the bookshelf pretty intimately by now.

"You can speak French?" Hermione asked. When she saw the frown on Narcissa's face she wished she hadn't. She had almost forgotten that she was meant to be fearful of the other woman.

"Not much. As I already said, these are my sister's possessions. But I know what I'm looking for, and I should be able to work out what is says." She must have found what she was looking for because she stopped and her finger moved across the page as she read.

She then moved to push the book into Hermione's hands.

"It makes the door transparent, but only to you. The light from the hallway will filter in here. You need to cast it."

Narcissa explained the spell to the younger girl and then turned to repair the damage that she had done when she entered the room. Hermione performed the spell and they both stood back as if admiring her handiwork. As Narcissa had predicted, the hallways dim light now filled the small room.

Narcissa turned back to her.

"Now, let's make the vow."

"Okay."

Hermione had read about the spell during her time at school, but she'd never even considered the possibility that she would one day be standing in a dark room, ready to perform it. Each breath she took felt constricted… it felt like she was selling her soul to the devil.

Narcissa held out her hand and Hermione placed her clammy one in it. The whole thing seemed absurd – only weeks ago she was sitting in a tent with Ron and Harry, thinking that their hunt would never end – and now they were within weeks of all of this being over. She felt stupid for how invincible they had all felt, she couldn't believe she'd been so naïve – not even considering what could happen to her if she was captured. Now, here she was, swearing on her own life that she would protect one of the death eaters they had endeavoured to kill.

"Will you, Hermione Granger, swear to stay within this room until the time at which I contact you to fulfil the task we have agreed on?"

Hermione let out a deep breath, worried that no words would be able to leave her lips. "I will," She said breathlessly.

"Do you promise to keep Bellatrix alive and well until I return for you?"

"I will."

The flames that shot out of Narcissa's wand and seemed to bind their hands together made Hermione flinch; her fate was sealed.

* * *

A/N: Before anyone annihilates me for thinking that Narcissa could make an unbreakable vow with no third party to do it for her - I didn't even think about it until I came to write it, and then I just had to kind of work around it, sorry!


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you for the favourites/follows/reviews!

A reviewer asked several questions about how Bellatrix knows what she knows and why she is acting so 'nice' and not just attacking Hermione... as I mentioned before, I know everything is a bit up in the air and doesn't really make sense, but it will all be explained in the end! I promise!

I have written eighteen chapters of this story so far and to be completely honest, some of the things concerning Bellatrix's weird actions haven't been explained yet - this story unfolds kinda slowly. Like I said before - plot isn't my forte so if anyone thinks the way this is working out is fundamentally flawed then I would _really_ appreciate some kind of constructive criticism! Of course, because this story will continue to be from Hermione's P.O.V, everyone reading will have to stay in the dark about what Bellatrix is thinking basically as long as Hermione is - sorry!

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

In the days that followed, Hermione stayed true to her word and worked on building her strength. She forced down the food that Ruffle brought, and with his help managed to keep her sleep regular.

Instead of sitting reading over old books she got up and washed her hair in the small sink each morning, trying to create some semblance of a routine. After that she would try to do whatever exercise she could come up with that would work within the confines of the small room. Her muscles had been fatigued the first time she tried, but as days passed, things got easier. Soon she wasn't tired anymore.

The whole time, she played out scenarios of what might happen when she finally had to leave this room and come into contact with Bellatrix. She forced daydreams of her friends and family to the back of her mind. With the knowledge that she might see them again soon, she couldn't afford to take her eyes off the prize. She refused to think about who and what she might lose once the final battle broke out, it would only make her stagnant with sadness once more, and she couldn't risk that.

Eight days in, she was lying on the floor after her daily workout, waiting for Ruffle to bring her lunch. Once again, she was going over what would happen once Narcissa freed her from this room. She imagined it vividly day after day, falling into the same scenario. She imagined finally walking down the hallway she could now stare at day after day, so close but so out of reach. She imagined finding the woman who'd tortured her, and backing her into a corner. She could only imagine how angry Bellatrix would be. But she had a wand. She would be in control the way Bellatrix had been before, and it disturbed her that it elated her like it did to think about it.

As these thoughts played over in her mind, she noticed movement in the hallway, and the object of her daydreams appeared to her. She shrunk back instinctively, and then realised that the woman couldn't see her, and moved slightly closer to observe.

Bellatrix looked different yet again – Hermione thought that she could make out a distinct lack of makeup compared to normal… and she looked almost haunted. She could have been a ghost, her pale, gaunt face blank as she walked along the hallway. One of her hands trailed along the wall gently as she approached the door next to Hermione's. Her feet were bare and her dress looked rumpled, like she'd slept in it and then just waltzed out of bed without changing. With the absence of her usual heels, the woman looked small. Tiny even, and strangely vulnerable.

Hermione's heart beat fast as Bellatrix got closer, and she noted how the woman was able to fill her with fear like nobody else, just with her physical appearance. It was the first time she had seen her since she had made the vow, and she now realised that for all her excitement about being in control, she never truly could be with this woman.

When her hand finally brushed against the doorframe of the door she was going to enter, Bellatrix stopped, and looked directly at Hermione.

She didn't realise that she had been holding her breath until a few seconds later when she came to the conclusion that Bellatrix couldn't possibly be looking at her. Her eyes were directed at her, but they stared unseeing – she must be looking at the door.

Hermione stood up and moved as close as she could without touching the door. She doubted she would ever get to see this woman in such an honest way ever again.

Her eyes were wide and beautiful, but glazed as she stared. She was lost in her thoughts, that much was obvious. Normally lined with black, they seemed less intimidating now – less dark. Prominent cheekbones, her lips ever so slightly parted. She resembled Narcissa this way, but her face was just that little bit more memorable, more attractive. Different.

Hermione's eyes travelled down, looking at her dishevelled clothing. Her usual corset was absent, and her long sleeves rolled up. This would have revealed the dark mark, Hermione thought, if it wasn't for the fact that her hand still rested on the door, the angle of her arm obscuring it from view. She looked at her hands, noticing that the long, sharp nails which had scratched her on more than one occasion were now much shorter. Maybe bitten. The red nail varnish was chipped in places. She marvelled at how looking at someone when they thought nobody was watching could give so much insight into their condition. Her heart still beat fast, but she wasn't scared anymore. She was haunted by how human Bellatrix was. The thought of someone she had once considered a monster wandering through her house, barefoot and vulnerable, no guard up…

Hermione had learnt more in the last few weeks than she had in her whole life.

* * *

When Bellatrix finally entered the room and disappeared from view, Hermione sat back against the wall. She wasn't left to dwell on what she had seen for long, however, as Ruffle appeared to present her with some soup for her lunch. The house elf bowed graciously and was about to retreat when Hermione held up a hand to stop him.

"Ruffle, how long have you worked for the Black family?" She asked cautiously.

Ruffle looked taken aback, and fiddled with the edge of the pillowcase he wore. "Ruffle has worked for the Black family his whole life, and Ruffle's mother before him." He said.

"Were you here when Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda were children?" She sat down on the bed to eat as he stood awkwardly at the end of it.

"Ruffle's mother was in charge, but Ruffle was learning the ways of the house elves when they were young, yes."

Hermione looked around thoughtfully. There were a million questions she felt she needed to ask, but she couldn't seem to form one in her mind – there was too much she needed answers to.

"What were they like?" She said finally.

"They were intelligent, beautiful and kind."

"Honestly?" She asked. Ruffle looked embarrassed at her implication that he was lying, and he looked at the ground.

"Yes." He replied eventually.

"Even Bellatrix?"

"She was a very agreeable child."

"Then why was she locked up in here?" When she saw Ruffle's expression, she added: "Don't worry, I am not going to do anything with the information you tell me. I only want to know."

"Bellatrix was wilful. Mistress Druella wanted her separated from her sisters so they didn't copy her."

"Wilful how?"

"She was very clever, but she never did as she was told. She had a temper."

Hermione let out a dark laugh, which made Ruffle jump. "She hasn't changed then?"

She wasn't sure, but she could've sworn she saw a look of regret on the house elf's face. "She was a child."

Hermione sighed. "Was she close to Narcissa?"

"She was closer to her other sister. Mistress Narcissa was not allowed to spend time with her when she was young."

"Was she cruel, Druella?"

Ruffle looked at her wide eyed, his mouth pressed tightly shut.

"Sorry… Sorry Ruffle. You don't have to answer that."

Ruffle gave her a short nod. "Is that all, miss?"

Hermione sighed. She hadn't learnt anything, but she knew it would be wrong of her to push him. She didn't want to make him speak ill of his family… And it didn't seem like there was much nice to say.

"Thank you Ruffle. See you at dinner."

He gave her a relieved smile before retreating through the door and locking it behind him.

Before it closed, she heard music emanating from the room which Bellatrix had gone into.

She abandoned her soup in order to crouch next to the bookshelf and put her ear up against the wall.

She could hear the music faintly when she did so. It was some kind of piano music… Something dramatic. Something she recognised vaguely, and probably would have known if she knew anything about music.

The thought of the older woman on the other side of this wall was insane. Listening to music, of all things. It was so disturbingly ordinary. She wondered what she was doing… What she was thinking. Bellatrix thought she was going to die any moment. Hermione wondered how she felt about her wasted life.

And then she was scared out of her thoughts when there was a loud bang of someone smashing their hands down on piano keys.

She had been playing the piano.

Bellatrix had been playing the piano.

…And she spoke French. And German. And it was only just beginning to dawn on Hermione quite how wasted a life it truly had been.

She still sat against the wall and now she heard more banging… It sounded as though whatever furniture was in the room was bearing the brunt of Bellatrix's anger. Then she heard the door wrenched open, and she scrambled up to get to the door and see what was going on.

She watched Bellatrix as she retreated. The woman she had seen before was gone. No longer did she seem lost and haunted, just her old destructive self again.

She stomped angrily back up the corridor, her black dress fluttering in a graceful contrast behind her. When she turned the corner at the end of the hall, Hermione finally saw her face. There was a livid fire in her eyes, but something else adorned her face too. Glistening cheeks. Tears.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

With each hour that passed, Hermione's fears mounted. Whereas before she had imagined holding all the power, now she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she lost control and Bellatrix tortured her once more. Or worse, if the unbreakable vow backfired. She wished that her and Narcissa had considered the terms that she set before they agreed on them… What constituted 'well'? What if she had to knock Bellatrix out cold to control her? Would that be considered 'well'? Her life now depended on incredibly ambiguous variables.

She reached under her pillow and felt the wand, as if tangible knowledge of its existence might quell her anxiety. It didn't.

When she heard a key in the lock, she sat up and removed her hand from her pillow, presuming it would be Ruffle.

With the unexpected appearance of Bellatrix in the doorway, her eyes went wide and her already racing heart nearly beat out of her chest. The aggressive look in the older woman's eyes made her instinctively reach back for the wand, but she stopped herself halfway, instead shifting as far back as she could on the bed and bracing herself for a world of pain.

Bellatrix flew at her, raining punches wherever she could reach, whilst Hermione held her arms over her head in a vain attempt to protect herself. Suddenly, all of her attempts to not think of her friends left her, and all she could think of was them.

She realised that the woman had no reason left not to kill her. She would die. Here and now. Once again, she had been naïve enough to plan her next move without considering what would happen between now and then...

And she thought of Harry. Of Ron… They had never even had a chance to be together. She had never considered that they never might. She imagined them mourning for her… Her ironically muggle death after all she had fought for in the magical world.

But she realised that just as Bellatrix had nothing to lose, neither did she. Narcissa's warning not to rile her sister echoed through her mind, but a reckless abandon descended, and she suddenly didn't care. She had long since realised that following instructions rarely worked out.

So she shoved the unsuspecting woman hard off of her, and when it actually worked, something sparked within her. She wasn't defenceless... Adrenaline shot through her veins.

Bellatrix seemed to be in a state of shock. Her face had made contact with the end of the metal bed frame, and when she slowly turned back to face Hermione, there was blood dripping from her nose. She reached up to touch it and then looked at her fingers. When her eyes met Hermione's, a smile crept onto her face and she lunged once more. This time, however, Hermione was ready. She put her arms out to defend herself, then changed her mind and pushed herself forward too. She knew she was no match for Bellatrix in physical strength, and she would not be able to defend herself. All she could do was to try and cause as much pain as possible. Attack was her best form of defence.

So she tried a punch of her own, which was easily swatted away with an evil laugh. Anger fired up inside her and she instinctively grabbed a fistful of Bellatrix's hair, pulling her back and tugging as hard as she could. Unfortunately, pain didn't seem to deter the older woman, who seemed to get a thrill out of Hermione's attempt to fight back. She grabbed Hermione's hand and dug her now pitiful nails into it, causing the younger girl to release her grip; and then she found herself pinned against the bed, wrists held by strong little hands within seconds. She was no match.

She watched in terror as the woman's chest heaved with heavy breaths and blood trickled sickeningly from her nose into her grinning mouth. She just held her there silently for a while, perhaps trying to catch her breath – it was obvious that the woman felt as weak as she had looked the day before. Hermione's wrists burned in agony as the grip tightened.

Then Bellatrix spoke, looking gleeful: "You're lucky mudblood. I was going to kill you, but you're more fun than I had anticipated. Maybe I'll save you for another day." And with that, she released her, and walked casually to the door, not once looking back.

Hermione waited for her heart rate to return to normal before moving. She had survived. Why, she didn't know. But she was grateful all the same, and now for the first time she truly wished that she would get Narcissa's signal. It might have been the adrenaline, but she finally felt ready.

She brought her wrists down to inspect them and the redness seemed to indicate that they would bruise. She patted herself down, but apart from her wrists there was no real damage. She was confused but thankful for no reappearance of the knife that had branded her before.

What disturbed her was how much Bellatrix had seemed to enjoy someone trying to cause her pain. She could see now what Narcissa meant – this woman needed mental help. There was something not quite right about the manic smile that had formed on her face when she realised she had something to fight against.

Hermione had finally managed to calm herself down and had lay back in her bed to relax when she heard a key in the lock once more. She jumped up, fear sparking in her chest.

When Ruffle entered, his expression did nothing to quell that fear. He walked over to her like he was possessed, holding out a piece of parchment at an arms length the whole time.

She had to stop herself from snatching it from him, her hands shaking. She couldn't believe it. This was it.

She opened it, already knowing what it was.

 _It is time. I have sent somebody to let you out, and they should be there within minutes. You need to carry out the following immediately:_

 _Once you are freed, locate Bellatrix and bind her magically so that she cannot escape. As she does not have a wand, the Dark Lord has sent someone to collect her. Of course, He will be expecting her and so I have taken care of this with a polyjuice potion and an imperius charm. By the time He realises it is not truly her they will be in the heat of battle and it will be too late._

 _However, the person who has come to collect her will arrive in the next ten minutes. You must be waiting for him when he arrives. Go to the end of the corridor, turn left and then left again to the main staircase. Wait in the entrance hall to receive him. You must kill or at least subdue this person – he is not a particularly talented wizard, just a young boy, but if he overpowers you we are in trouble._

 _As soon as the Dark Lord falls we shall be there to relieve you. Don't let her overpower you. Keep your wits about you and don't underestimate her._

 _Also, don't try to leave the room until you are retrieved, you will be injured, and Ruffle is not able to perform the magic required to allow you to leave. Make sure you wait._

 _Thank you_

 _Narcissa Malfoy_

Hermione didn't have a chance to analyse what Narcissa had said because as soon as she had finished the letter, a house elf that she didn't recognise was in the doorway, casting a spell silently which caused the doorway to light up magnificently. Hermione was about to say something when the house elf put a finger to its lips and she remembered that she would require the element of the surprise in order to subdue Bellatrix.

The house elf beckoned to her and she finally walked through the doorway, the surreal feeling of it not lost on her. She had imagined this feeling almost constantly during the last few days, but she never could have imagined it would come so soon. She felt ill prepared – though she was sure she could have waited 100 years in that room and she never would be. She felt almost lightheaded as she walked down the corridor watching the elf in front of her march hastily towards the room where he must have known Bellatrix was.

Hermione felt the air leave her lungs as she pushed open the door, holding the alien-feeling wand in her right hand.

She was scared the words wouldn't come out, but she heard her own voice as if coming from another person.

She didn't even get to see the look on Bellatrix's face as her back was to her – it couldn't have been more perfect.

 _"Pertrificus Totalus!"_

She bound the woman's hands and feet with a spell too, just for good measure, then she set off down the corridor, following Narcissa's directions.

It felt like an out of body experience, running down the stairs and into the magnificent entrance hall.

As she reached the bottom, the thing she was dreading most happened and the front door opened, not giving her a chance to get into a position where the young death eater would not be able to see her. However, with the element of surprise on her side once again, she stunned him instantly. The strange wand seemed to act of its own accord – her adrenaline controlling her instincts. She would never have believed she could be so efficient without really registering what she was doing. She bound the man in the same way she had Bellatrix, and then she left him, slowly walking back up the stairs. She tried to calm herself down, unable to believe that everything had gone so smoothly.

The hard part was over... Or so she thought.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you for the kind words of encouragement in the form of reviews! It makes me feel a lot better! And of course the follows and favourites.

I'm aware this is quite a strange request but I am wondering if anyone on here would be interested in chucking some ideas about with me for this story? I have currently written 20 chapters and I know where I want to go with it but I need a bit of a shove in the right direction I reckon...

Also, I'm posting this unedited, just because I'm really busy. It was written quite a long time ago, so if there's any errors forgive me!

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Hermione entered the room in which she had bound Bellatrix and looked around, deliberately trying to avert her eyes from the motionless woman on the ground.

The room was beautiful. The carpet was soft and luxurious and the décor a deep, rich green. There was a mahogany dressing table adorned with all kinds of expensive looking perfumes and makeup along one wall, opposite a huge four poster bed with green sheets and black hangings. It looked like something out of a dark fairytale.

Hermione sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed, and her eyes finally found the woman she was meant to be 'looking after'. She had been looking out of the window when Hermione had attacked her. She had been waiting to be collected. Eagerly waiting to go off to her death.

Bellatrix could have moved her eyes, but she didn't. She stared upwards at the ceiling, seeming to stare unseeing. It worried Hermione, who was scared that something was wrong with the woman… What if she wasn't okay? It was impossible to know when she was paralysed like this. But she couldn't bring herself to undo the spell that paralysed her. She was too scared.

A few hours passed, and Ruffle came to bring dinner. It shocked her how able he was to act like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She wondered about the things he had seen, living in this house his whole life. Maybe he _did_ think it was ordinary.

But Hermione didn't eat. Her eyes were glued to the door. She was so close to the finish line, it seemed impossible that it could be this easy… That she would just be able to walk away after this.

She still couldn't allow herself to think of her friends. The thought of a battle playing out right now as she sat here silently seemed insane. She couldn't get her head around it. It wasn't safe for her to consider throwing herself into their arms at some point; she had learnt from having expectations before. They rarely manifested themselves in reality.

And she was tired. Exhausted even. But she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. She didn't even know what she thought would happen, but it just seemed incredibly reckless. So she continued to stare at the door. Waiting. Willing Narcissa to walk through it every minute. But she didn't.

She looked back and Bellatrix and saw something that disturbed her. The woman's eyes seemed to be rolling back in her head, and fear rose in Hermione once more. Part of her _knew_ she was doing it on purpose. After all, the woman had been lying paralysed for almost five hours - she'd had plenty of time to plan her escape.

But at the same time, Hermione wasn't sure it was worth the risk. If something was wrong, she would _die_. It wasn't something to be taken lightly.

So she slipped off the bed and down onto her knees next to the woman. She tightened the magical ropes that bound the woman's hands and feet with her wand and then reached down to feel each one in turn, just to make sure. Then, with shaking hands, she lifted the spell that paralysed her.

Immediately, Bellatrix's eyes went wide and her face twisted into a frown. If looks could kill, Hermione wouldn't have even needed to worry about the vow, she would be stone cold dead.

"Bet you think you're so clever, don't you mudblood?" Bellatrix spat. She struggled against the ropes but to no avail, all she achieved was burning her wrists painfully, and she clenched her teeth in anger.

"I can just paralyse you again if you'd prefer." Hermione said eventually. Her voice came weakly, without the malice she had endeavoured to put into it.

"Who gave you that wand?" Bellatrix said angrily, ignoring her completely.

Hermione contemplated telling her… But she wasn't sure she should. Would Narcissa want her to know?

"It was Cissy, wasn't it?"

Hermione didn't need to respond, her eyes gave her away.

Bellatrix swore. "I'll kill her." She said venomously.

"She's your sister. She cares about you." Hermione said earnestly.

"Cares about me?!" Bellatrix scoffed. "She's a coward! Scared of me dying without having _fixed_ me."

"What's wrong with wanting to help someone?"

"What would really fucking help me would be if you killed me now. So if you're going to be all high and mighty then do that."

Hermione stayed silent. Bellatrix was not known for her candid sincerity and it was incredibly disconcerting.

"But of course, she made you promise to protect me with your own life, didn't she? How predictable. I bet you'd love to kill me, wouldn't you? Bet you're enjoying thinking you're in control."

"I wouldn't love to kill anyone. I'm not sick in the head. And I _am_ in control, so you'd better get used to it."

Bellatrix laughed darkly.

"You will never be in control with me."

Hermione stayed silent once more. She didn't know how to deny it. A part of her knew it was right. She was in control physically, but not emotionally. She was falling deeper and deeper into an unexpected state of pity for this woman. She was scared of her, but more than that, she felt sorry for her.

"You're so fucking twee it makes me sick." Bellatrix went on. "You think you're clever but you're a blind fucking idiot."

"You're one to talk."

"I _know_ what I am. I am a far superior witch to you. If I had a wand, you'd be dead before you could even touch yours. Even if I didn't, I could kill you with my bare hands."

"And that's what makes you superior?"

"What else?" It was a statement, not a question.

Hermione sighed.

"Love? Family? Friendship?" Bellatrix said mockingly, a sickly smile on her face.

"You love your sister."

"Love! I don't love her. I am responsible for her."

"I heard you talking to her. I spoke to her myself."

Bellatrix's frown deepened, and she struggled against her ropes once more.

"You don't know anything."

"Why are you so against the fact that you might care about someone?"

"I don't care about anyone!" Bellatrix said angrily. She sounded like a petty teenager. And she seemed to realise it.

"She should have let me die!" The aggression hadn't left her voice, but she stared back at the ceiling, her struggling suddenly abating and becoming uncharacteristically docile.

Hermione sat up, resuming her position on the edge of the bed. Bellatrix was okay, that much was obvious. She glanced back at the door, sighing.

How much longer was she going to have to keep her eyes open? She thought of her time in this room stretching out into days. Maybe weeks. What if Narcissa never came back? What if she had been caught? Killed? She pulled the note out of her pocket, where she had shoved it in her previous haste.

It seemed so straight forward, like Narcissa knew what she was doing and was sure she would pull it off. Or maybe that was just that Black refusal to show any emotion. She considered herself to be fairly good at reading people, but these women had her stumped. There was never any way of telling what was going on behind their glazed eyes.

She looked back at the woman on the floor, her eyes instantly meeting dark ones. The woman was watching her silently. She got up and crossed the room, dragging the dressing table chair over to where Bellatrix lay.

When Bellatrix realised what she had planned, she protested both physically and vocally.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She screeched, but she was unable to do anything about it, and Hermione reached under the woman's arms to lift her.

Being weak herself, she'd thought it would be a bit of struggle, but it wasn't. As she lifted the woman onto her feet, she felt protruding ribs beneath her clothing. What shocked her more, however, was the now unfamiliar warmth of human contact. Why her brain seemed to have imagined Bellatrix as cold blooded she could probably guess, but it was a surprise all the same. She let her fall unceremoniously into the chair, all the while trying to ignore Bellatrix's loud shrieks of protest.

"You're a fixer too, aren't you? Being all humane. Sitting me down. Playing at looking after me." Bellatrix said aggressively. Hermione just shook her head, frowning and choosing to ignore her. This woman would do anything for a bit of resistance, and she didn't have the energy to rise to it.

"I bet you think that you'll be able to help me, don't you? I bet Narcissa told you all kinds of sob stories about me. And your weak little mind lapped it up. Poor Bellatrix, what a shit life she's had…"

Hermione turned her back on the woman, ignoring her and sitting back on the bed once more. Was she really that easy to read? She forced herself not to blush – it wasn't a weakness to care about people and she refused to be laughed at by a maniac, regardless of whether said maniac needed help or not.

But Bellatrix was persistent.

"… You're wasting your time, mudblood. I used to be like you. I used to think caring about people was worth it. Let me put you out of your misery: it isn't worth shit."

Hermione snorted. "Did that knowledge put _you_ out of _your_ misery?"

Bellatrix smiled darkly.

"You're an idiot if you think you'll ever make me think like you."

"Thinking at all would be a start."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "You live in a fairytale."

Hermione's patience was wearing thin. A headache was throbbing in her temple with the sheer effort she was having to put into staying awake.

"What kind of fucking fairytale is this?"

Bellatrix laughed. "Am I getting to you, mudblood?"

Hermione massaged her aching temples and sighed. "How can you concentrate long enough to form a sentence with all that unwarranted hatred clogging your brain?"

"Unwarranted? After my family have kept their blood lines pure for hundreds of years, and you fucking mudbloods saunter up saying "let me have a go?". I don't think so."

"I'm not even talking about that! You hate everything! Every single solitary thing."

Bellatrix just stared at her with an air of silent anger. She looked as exhausted as Hermione felt.

She lay down on her side, breaking eye contact. She knew she shouldn't give in to sleep but it was so difficult. Maybe she'd just have a few minutes rest…


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed :) I am posting two chapters because I've got loads of this written now and I might as well :D

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Hermione was startled awake seconds later by a loud pop, and Ruffle was standing next to the bed.

"You mustn't sleep, miss. Mistress Narcissa sent Ruffle these to keep you awake." He pushed some bottles onto the side table.

"Why didn't you bring them earlier?!"

"Mistress told me to give you them when you looked like you might fall asleep." Narcissa really had thought about everything, Hermione thought. She downed one of the potions and within seconds her headache began to subside.

"Oi, what about me? How about something to knock me out until my idiot fucking sister gets here and I can throttle her."

Ruffle looked terrified.

"You don't have to do what she says, Ruffle. Ignore her."

Bellatrix piped up once again, sounding affronted.

"You have to do exactly what I fucking say. You belong to me!"

Ruffle looked from Hermione to Bellatrix worriedly.

"Mistress Narcissa instructed Ruffle to not follow orders from anyone but her until she returns."

Bellatrix made an angry noise, pulling at her ropes once more.

Hermione ignored her. She dismissed Ruffle politely and then sat back, beginning to feel more refreshed as the minutes passed.

She surveyed the room with her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. Then her eyes fell on something which made her stomach turn.

Her hostage's wrists were bloody and battered from all her struggles. Hermione didn't consider herself particularly squeamish, and she'd seen much worse over her years of adventures in the wizarding world, but the woman was still pulling at the ropes that bound her, seemingly mindless of the blood dripping down her palms and staining the beautiful carpet.

Then Bellatrix caught her looking and followed her gaze. A manic grin formed on her face and she forced her wrists upwards, the rope tightening and stretching the skin to breaking point. She laughed insanely as Hermione cringed. The younger girl got up and stormed over to her, grabbing her hands.

"Oh you're so easy! You don't like that, do you mudblood?"

She could no longer move her hands with Hermione holding them, but she now twisted them, swinging her bound legs like a child, not even a flicker of pain crossing her face. She sneered at Hermione.

Hermione let out a breath, her disgusted amazement evident.

Bellatrix laughed excitedly, and something in Hermione snapped.

"You're sick in the head!" She said in exasperation. "No wonder your parents locked you up!"

She clasped a hand over her mouth, but she needn't have bothered thinking that anything she could say would touch the sides.

A shadow of anger flitted over Bellatrix's face, but it was replaced almost instantly with another excited grin.

"You're learning!" She said mockingly.

Hermione made a disgusted noise, but didn't grace her with an answer.

She cast a healing spell on Bellatrix's wrists, and ignored the fact that she immediately started trying to break the skin once more. She wouldn't let this woman rile her.

She walked around her and over to the dressing table to inspect its contents. She picked up bottles and tubes, not recognising any of the items. She didn't have a lot of experience with beauty products, muggle or magic. She picked up one of the perfumes and sprayed some.

An anxiety settled on her as she tried to place where she recognised this from – and then she realised. Of course it belonged to her hostage. She remembered the woman pinning her to the ground that first day at Malfoy Manor. However, the fear that she expected to rise in her just didn't. She braced herself, but nothing came. She turned back to look at Bellatrix. The woman was facing the other direction, so she couldn't tell she was being observed. She wasn't scared.

She tried to imagine what would have happened if she had escaped from Malfoy Manor with her friends. She imagined nightmares… She imagined not knowing how weak Bellatrix truly was. She would never have coped. She wasn't one to believe in such romantic notions as fate, but it seemed that she needed to be captured that night. For her own sanity.

She leaned against the beautiful piece of furniture, wondering how long she was going to be in this room. If she had felt stir crazy in Bellatrix's childhood prison, it was nothing to how she felt now; with a wand in her hand and the ability to apparate, but unable to use it.

She stayed there for a while, enjoying being away from prying eyes. And before long, she heard Bellatrix's breathing grow shallower.

She approached the woman quietly, hoping that she wasn't just playing a game with her. But when she reached the other side of the room, she could see that Bellatrix truly was asleep. Hermione had known that she was exhausted, she had seen it in her face hours ago.

A feeling of relief washed over her at the ability to now truly relax, she sat down on the end of the bed, about a foot away from where Bellatrix sat.

She had thought that the previous day would be the only time she would be able to inspect the woman up close without her knowing, but it seemed she had been wrong. This was much more intimate than that had been.

There wasn't even a trace of an expression on the older woman's face, she looked serene – something that didn't suit her personality at all. Because of that, Hermione could have convinced herself that she was looking at a completely different human being.

With all the lines softened on her face, Bellatrix was startlingly beautiful. A feeling that was half envy and half something unidentifiable rose in Hermione's chest. The contrast of her pale skin and dark hair was ironically princess-like. Maybe regal. Hermione guessed she must be in her mid forties, but she could've passed for maybe fifteen years younger _at least_. The only other woman around that age that Hermione had observed properly was her mother, and there was something distinctly more _womanly_ about Bellatrix. She was the sort of woman men would chew their own arm off to get to. Her time in Azkaban might have made her a little rough around the edges, but even with hollow cheeks and unkempt hair she was undeniably incredibly attractive.

Hermione stared at her unabashed. She couldn't deny that this was half the reason this woman made her so nervous. Women in general even. It was the one area that research and books could never help her in – she could never think herself desirable. It was the one thing that she had always had to bury deep. She had spent many years quashing envy of other women… Ginny was just one such example. But she had to force herself to believe that those things weren't important. She knew that even if Bellatrix had rolled over and treated her like a queen, she still would've felt like a silly little girl in her presence.

So she stared. Bellatrix's chin rested on her chest and a few stray curls fell into her face. Hermione tried to imagine what she would have looked like at seventeen. She knew the woman had been intellectually gifted, which was something she could understand herself, but she couldn't imagine being so attractive on top of that. It explained all that arrogance and bravado.

Bellatrix seemed to mutter something indiscernible in her sleep, a frown permeating the emotionless expression on her face momentarily. And that gave Hermione an idea.

"Bellatrix?" She whispered tentatively.

The frown reappeared for a second and Hermione held her breath. But nothing happened, she carried on sleeping.

"Are you okay?" She asked gently.

Once again, her only response was a frown.

"Why are you so angry?" Hermione persisted.

The frown this time was one of confusion. It looked alien on the woman's face, strangely innocent. A few seconds passed in silence. Then she mumbled softly:

"I'm not."

"Are you scared?"

Bellatrix sighed breathlessly.

"No." she said, in the same disconnected voice. She still looked confused, but she continued to sleep soundly.

"Do you really want to die?"

Her breathing grew laboured for a minute, and Hermione sat back, worried that she would wake. She didn't.

She thought that she could see something glistening beneath the woman's eyelashes when she whispered as though pleading:

"Yes."


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: I didn't realise how ridiculously short this was until I came to put it up - I have just been writing continuously with the occasional line break, and then cutting it up when I come to post it. So sorry, but you'll see why it was necessary :)

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Bellatrix stayed asleep. Hermione had been taken aback more than she cared to admit to herself by the response the woman had given to her final question. The sadness she had not allowed herself to feel about her friends now seeped into her, dragging her down. She wasn't sure what she had expected… Maybe she'd known. Maybe she'd needed to know. It disturbed her how much it affected her. She had not considered herself to live a sheltered life, having known more death and suffering in her teenage years than could be considered ordinary. But now she realised she had been lucky. She'd never suffered, not truly.

Her heart hurt for Bellatrix. The evil woman who had never uttered a single nice word or performed a single nice action in her presence. She felt unstable. She had spent too much time alone with her thoughts. But it wasn't just that – there was some emotion that she just couldn't put her finger on.

She hoped beyond hope that the woman didn't wake up any time soon. She couldn't face her. She sat back on the bed now, facing the door and willing Narcissa to come in. Only eight hours had passed. She could be here for much, much longer still. She needed to get a hold of her emotions or she would be in trouble.

She reached for another potion to revive herself, hoping there was no way of overdosing on this stuff. But as she replaced the empty bottle, she heard a distant noise. Her breath caught in her throat… Narcissa was here already.

"Bellatrix!" She said loudly, without thinking. "Narcissa is here!"

Bellatrix was shocked out of sleep and she jumped, looking around as if she didn't remember where she was, her cheeks flushed and her eyes blinking.

She was silent for a second, just listening. The sounds of people approaching got louder. People. Something wasn't right.

"Is it-" Hermione started, but Bellatrix shook her head violently.

"Shut. Up." She hissed.

They listened again. The voices were all male. It wasn't Narcissa.

"Unbind me. Now!" Bellatrix said, trying to lift herself from the seat and failing miserably. Hermione shook her head.

"No!" She said fearfully, suddenly feeling unable to breathe.

"You can't fight them alone. You know I can. Let me go if you want to live!"

"I can't!"

"You fucking idiot! Let me go now or we will both fucking die!"

They heard the voices grow louder… Feet pounded down the corridor. She flicked her wand and the ropes fell away.

"Give me that!" Bellatrix said, her eyes wide and wild, shooting forward to grab the wand from Hermione's hand. Hermione snatched her arm away. Then she heard a hand on the door and she pushed it into the other woman's hand without another thought.

She whipped around, but she didn't get to see their attacker…

Everything went black.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

She knew that she was in a hospital before she opened her eyes. The smell of antiseptic invaded her nose and the sheets that surrounded her felt starchy and stiff.

When she opened her eyes, blaring lights attacked them and she blinked, trying to get used to it. She could sense someone beside her, and when she could finally see, brown eyes met blue.

"Ron!" She said – or rather, she tried to. It came out as more of a croak. She put out her arms and he took the hint and leaned over her to give her a hug.

She clung to him when he tried to pull away, unable to believe he was sitting in front of her.

"Where is… What… Who…" She didn't know what to say, and her throat felt raw with every attempt. He smiled.

"They're down the hall… Some are at home. But they're all okay. Don't strain yourself, sit back." He pushed her gently, but he didn't let go of her hand.

She looked around, needing tangible proof that she wasn't dreaming.

"What happened?" She asked. He opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again.

"Let me get Harry." He said, and he tried to let go of her and get up, but she held on.

"I'll be one minute." He promised. And he left.

They were alive. Everyone was alive. It was a miracle. And she'd survived! How? Bellatrix must have taken on whoever had come to attack them on her own…

But Ron hadn't lied, and she only had thirty seconds alone with her thoughts before Harry and Ginny entered. Ginny threw herself on Hermione, hugging her hard. Ron grabbed her.

"Be careful!" He warned her. Hermione couldn't help but break out into a smile. It felt like a thousand years since she'd smiled, and now she thought she'd never stop.

"How did you find me? Did Bellatrix…?" She didn't even know what she was asking. Did Bellatrix protect her? Did she save her life?

But her friends looked puzzled.

"Did Bellatrix what?" Harry asked.

"Did she stop them from getting to me?" She asked.

"It was Narcissa who found you. She brought you back to us and…" Ginny started, but Hermione cut her off.

"Did she escape?"

"Narcissa?" Ginny asked, her expression mirroring Harry's confused one.

"Bellatrix!"

"Oh! No, the death eaters left her for dead." Harry said.

Hermione thought her heart had stopped. "She's dead?"

"She's in a medically induced coma." Ginny said, eyeing Hermione suspiciously. "Why?!"

Hermione sighed and slumped back against the bed. There was so much information she required and she didn't know what to ask for first.

Ron looked angrily at his sister and best friend. "Don't you think this is all a bit much? She doesn't look well."

Harry nodded, and reached out to take Hermione's hand.

"Maybe we should just relax for a while?" He said. It annoyed her.

"I need to know what happened. I need to tell you what happened. I'm not waiting!" She said defiantly.

"Narcissa told us what happened, Hermione." Ginny said gently.

"She was with me for all of twenty minutes, how would she know what happened?!"

Her friends stood awkwardly and she suddenly felt bad. She should be ecstatic, not annoyed.

"How did you find the horcruxes?" She asked.

Harry smiled. "I had a little help." Ron and Ginny were beaming too as they exchanged glances. She realised that she was now the odd one out. The only one who hadn't been there. She wondered how quickly that would wear thin.

But as Harry began his story, she shifted up so that Ginny could get into bed next to her, the girls arm wrapped tightly around her. She rested her head on the younger girls shoulder and let herself relax. She was home.

Hermione only remained in hospital for a few more days due to the shortage of beds. She was due to be picked up at 8am but she was awake by 5, desperate to leave. Dosed up on painkillers, she felt like she was walking on air. Ginny had brought her some clothes to put on for the journey home and she dressed tentatively. It had been weeks since she'd put on a pair of jeans.

The clothes were Ginny's and the girl had always tended to be slightly smaller than Hermione, but she slipped into them with ease. She had lost a lot of weight over the last year. Eating – another thing she needed to add to the to do list.

The list that seemed to grow by the minute. She had been unconscious for weeks, and she was now faced with the task of deciding whether or not she should go back to school when it started up again. She wasn't sure she was ready.

Not to mention the fact that she still had to locate her parents, navigate a non-platonic relationship with an increasingly attentive Ron, and get her head around what had actually happened in the weeks that she had been gone.

She hadn't thought much more about what had happened at Black Manor. There was too many other things to process and it didn't really require a great deal of contemplation. Another thing she needed to remember was to thank Narcissa. Since she owed her life to the woman, her friends had been more than happy to accept Narcissa as 'good'. She had a feeling there was something they weren't telling her about this… But that was a problem for another day.

The unbreakable vow had been fulfilled. She no longer had any tie to either Narcissa or her sister, but that didn't stop her worrying what would happen now that they had all survived. She couldn't imagine Narcissa's idea to section Bellatrix would prove very popular. Lucius might have been powerful in the ministry before, but she imagined he would be lucky to get a job there nowadays.

She didn't have any obligation to help Narcissa anymore. She had played her part and could now walk away and get on with the rest of her life. Unfortunately, that didn't stop her from feeling bad about it.

The corridors were empty so early, and she walked along to the reception desk with only one task in mind.

"What room is Bellatrix Lestrange in, please?" She asked the receptionist. The woman eyed her strangely – but she couldn't blame her. She didn't imagine there was a lot of people who asked after Bellatrix.

"Straight to the end of the corridor and turn right. Room 413." The woman said, using her biro to point Hermione in the right direction.

She thanked her and took off towards the room. Her muscles still screamed at her if she decided to pick up any kind of pace, but she chose to ignore it. She didn't want to risk bumping into someone she knew and them asking where she was going.

She knocked before she entered the room. Nobody answered so she let herself in.

The room was smaller than hers had been. In contrast to Hermione, who looked pretty worse for wear, Bellatrix looked healthier than Hermione had ever seen her. She presumed the medically induced coma meant they were able to give her the nutrients she had been lacking.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the rope that bound the woman's hands to the metal bed on either side. They were thin golden wires, and they looked much stronger than the crude rope that she had bound her with before. Her wrists bore scars, but whether or not they were from said ropes she couldn't know for sure. It seemed insane that they could keep her shackled like this when she was clearly in no state to run away. Hermione tried to bury some of that overzealous humanity deep – it had a habit of popping up whenever she was in Bellatrix's presence.

She sat down in a chair which was drawn up next to the bed. Clearly someone had been here. Narcissa she presumed. The bedside table held a comb and three empty coffee cups. By the look of Bellatrix's glossy hair and fresh nail varnish, she had been looking after her.

Disturbingly, despite looking so healthy, she seemed to resemble a corpse. Her breathing was so shallow that her chest didn't move noticeably, and her arms out at her sides made her look like a broken marionette.

Hermione leaned over and looked at the woman's still face. She reached out a hand to touch her…

But the sound of the door opening made her snatch her hand back.

It was a cleaner. He came in with his mop and gave her a slight nod.

"Don't mind me!" He said cheerfully.

Hermione nodded politely, returning his greeting, and shrunk back in the seat. She suddenly wanted to leave but she didn't want him to think it was because of him.

He seemed to sense her awkwardness.

"Are you family?" He asked.

She shook her head and he must have read her expression because he smiled.

"You're not the first one to come and see her. Nasty piece of work this one. She better enjoy that coma while it lasts 'cos she'll be straight off to Azkaban when she wakes up!"

Hermione's head snapped up to look him in the eye when he said that. "Azkaban? Won't she get a trial?"

He chuckled. "Yeah but it's not difficult to guess the verdict – killed more people than she's had hot dinners. It'll be an in and out job. Over in five minutes tops."

Hermione sat silently as he finished mopping and then collected the coffee cups.

"Have a good day, miss." He said as he exited. She nodded graciously and watched the door until it banged shut.

She reached out a finger and stroked it along the woman's hand. It was way too cold for comfort. The fear that had laced Bellatrix's voice, the heaviness of unshed tears that had been obvious when the woman had spoken of her imprisonment to Narcissa invaded Hermione's mind.

"You won't go back to Azkaban. I promise." She whispered.

* * *

A/N: Hope nobody hates me for not including Harry's story - obviously the dynamic of the final battle is changed somewhat by Narcissa's absence, but to be completely honest it would have filled up masses of space and since I've kinda knocked Bella out for a while anyway, I'd rather we get to the point sooner and kinda ignore (sorry) all that stuff. Also - as you probably gathered, nobody close to Hermione is dead. I didn't really want her to be upset cos it would take away from the story - I'm lazy, what can I say? Anything that is relevant will be explained later on, promise :)

And thanks for the reviews and favourites, as always! They are very very much appreciated :)


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: I cannot believe that it has been almost a year since my last update, and I am sorry! Reading over what I had written after Hermione escaped from Black Manor (and there is about 13 more chapters already written), I found that my writing just wasn't as good and as I approached the exam period at university, I found myself with no time to edit it all and post it here. I have been thinking about this story all year, however, and seeing that people are still favouriting and following (thankyou!) I decided I will just post what I have and let you lot be the judge! So, here it is:

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

Hermione soon forgot about her promise. As soon as her friends arrived to collect her, she was completely distracted by their incessant chatter. They were all so excited to have her back and glad to have something to talk about that _wasn't_ the war.

Life at the Burrow soon fell into monotonous routine, but there was nothing that Hermione desired more. As a result, in the months that followed her hospital stay she was busy almost constantly.

As September approached, she realised it was completely unrealistic to think that she could go back to school. Harry and Ron had begun auror training already and had accepted their honorary school qualifications. Although they constantly tried to convince her that she had more than earned hers, she couldn't bring herself to take it. She sent McGonagall a letter telling her as much, but she didn't expect a reply… The woman was the new headmistress – and like everyone else, she was working around the clock to make sure everything was back to normal before the school reopened.

In the meantime, Hermione had been inundated with job offers. She could have taken a position she was way under-qualified for in almost any field she could imagine. But once again, she had no interest in taking something she hadn't earned. She hadn't fought alongside her friends in the final battle - she didn't deserve it.

Along with Molly, she spent a lot of her time at St. Mungo's and she was more than happy to stay working there for free as a volunteer. It was the only part of her day that she felt productive – she was actually learning things again. In the back of her mind, she told herself that she would perhaps go back to Hogwarts next year, when everything was settled down and her services were no longer required.

In the evenings she felt restless. Her and Ron had fallen into a sort of psuedo-relationship. They lolled together on the sofa. Kissed lots. Got teased by family members. It was easy, but neither of them had the strength to take it to the next level. To take it seriously. There just wasn't enough hours in the day. When they collapsed into his small bed side by side at night, she felt unfulfilled. At the same time, she wasn't willing to do anything about it. Her life had come to an emotional standstill.

So when another letter joined Ginny's Hogwarts one a few days before September first, it was the light at the end of the tunnel.

 _Dear Miss Granger,_

 _I was terribly unhappy to learn that you have no intention of completing your schooling with us this year. You are such a talented young woman and part of me feels like it is a tremendous waste._

 _However, I understand that you have been working alongside Molly at St. Mungo's and it is undeniable that your services must be of great use to them. I therefore understand your decision to forego your schooling this year – it is the right thing to do._

 _I also understand your reasoning for not taking your honorary qualification. However, it seems unfair that you should not have a tangible reward for all the impeccable work you did in your first six years. It is because of this that I wish to offer you the opportunity to study as you work._

 _All this requires is your submission of essays and other work set by teachers via owl, and attendance at end of year exams. Teachers will be able to send you the work covered, and you should be able to fit it around your own schedule._

 _I hope that this sounds agreeable to you._

 _Regards,_

 _Professor McGonogall_

Ron and Harry were leaning over her shoulder to read and when she finished she turned to look at them, a huge smile on her face.

"You're gonna take it then?" Ron asked through a mouthful of toast.

"Course she is. It'll be a breeze for her!" Harry replied, taking the seat next to Hermione and loading his plate with food.

"What's this?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"McGonogall has offered me the chance to finish my schooling from home." She said.

They all congratulated her and she basked in their happiness, feeling very good about today. She had got up bright and early and had good news before it was even 9am. What could go wrong?

* * *

Hermione and Molly spent the morning changing outpatients' bandages. As jobs went, it wasn't the most exciting, but it meant they could chat casually and it was almost always stress free. The hours passed quickly as they talked about how things were going to change in the next few weeks. Ginny would be back at school, Harry and Ron would be off at camp and Charlie was heading back to Romania. The house would be empty of young people save for Hermione… She had become much closer to her boyfriend's mother in the last few months though, and the woman had insisted she stay instead of going back to live in her parents empty house.

Kingsley had approached her about bringing her parents back, and convinced her to wait for a team of aurors to do the searching for her. There was still dark wizards to be caught and it would be dangerous for her to cross an unfamiliar country on her own.

She constantly tried to push this out of her mind, and with everything going on, it was easy. Her parents were happy and safe. She was happy and safe. She missed them, but that was not a new feeling. So she would be staying at the burrow until things had calmed down enough for the aurors to help her out.

The unusual luck of the day continued, or so she thought, when she checked the chart and saw that hers and Molly's lunch breaks coincided for once. When she told the older woman, however, she already knew.

"I switched lunches with someone else." Molly said matter-of-factly, as she wrapped a bandage carefully onto a young girls wrist. "I'm meeting Andromeda and she wanted to see you."

Hermione had only met Andromeda a handful of times, and she wasn't sure what the woman could want, but her good mood meant that she didn't question it.

When they walked to lunch, however, Hermione could sense that Molly was holding something back. The older woman was not good at hiding her emotions, and it made Hermione uneasy. All her thoughts of her lucky day went out of the window.

They approached the café in which they normally ate, and Hermione's eyes caught Andromeda's straight away. She was sitting at a table, holding baby Teddy in her arms, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were clearly searching for them.

Molly and Andromeda greeted each other warmly as they sat down, and Hermione offered an awkward smile. The two older women knew each other well and she felt somewhat of a third wheel. Andromeda passed Teddy to Molly almost immediately and turned her attention to Hermione. The look on her face was unreadable.

"Hermione! You look so well." The woman smiled at her and something about it made Hermione's breath catch in her throat. She tried to ignore it, but she felt like she was looking at Bellatrix. Lighter hair, lighter eyes – she carried more weight and was homely in a way her sister was definitely not, but the resemblance was glaringly obvious. Andromeda clearly sensed her reservation as her smile fell slightly. Hermione could only imagine how much of Andromeda's life had been tainted by people making this same connection every time they looked at her. But the woman didn't say anything and Hermione pushed those thoughts away.

"Thank you." She responded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I hope you're all well?"

Andromeda's smile reached her eyes once more, and for all Hermione's trying push Bellatrix out of her mind, the sight of Andromeda's face was making it impossible. She felt guilt rise in her chest as she finally thought of the promise she had made to Bellatrix in the silence of her hospital room. Something she could almost certainly not fulfil.

"We're fine! Dora and Remus are back at work full time now so I get to spend all day with this adorable thing."

Hermione's distraction made it impossible to concentrate on small talk, and Molly seemed to sense it. She looked at Hermione every few minutes as she took the heat, asking about Teddy's routine. She looked almost worried, which only made Hermione more nervous. What was going on?

Andromeda seemed to sense that the younger girl's suspicion was growing and once her and Molly's conversation lulled, she looked back at her almost apologetically.

"Look, Hermione, I know it must be…" She trailed off as Molly shot her a look of warning. She stared at the coffee cup in her hands. "I know what my sister did to you and…"

"Andy." Molly said sharply. But Andromeda persisted, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"I know mine is the last face you want to see after what she put you through. I can see it in your eyes – I've seen it a thousand times. I remind you of her, I know…"

She was interrupted by Teddy suddenly letting out a screech and beginning to cry. Molly stood up to rock him and nodded for Andromeda to continue, looking flustered.

"But my sister asked me to talk to you."

"She's awake?" Hermione asked in shock.

Andromeda looked confused.

"No… No she's not. Narcissa. Narcissa asked me to speak to you."

Hermione contemplated this for a second. "Why?"

"She wants to meet in person and speak with you, but she didn't want to turn up unannounced and she wasn't sure you would reply to a letter… So she asked me."

There was something about it that seemed not quite right. Surely Narcissa would be able to guess that curiosity would win out and she'd be happy to meet her? But yet she hadn't wanted to write her to say why. Obviously the conversation Narcissa wanted to have was an undesirable one.

"I haven't thanked her yet for…" She didn't know how to finish the sentence, but Andromeda nodded.

"She was hoping you could meet right away. Maybe tomorrow?"

Hermione didn't need to contemplate. She was inexplicably drawn to the idea.

"Why does she want to see me?" She asked.

Andromeda and Molly exchanged glances. This seemed to be the part they had been worried about.

"She wants to talk about Bellatrix's trial."

* * *

A/N: I feel like there's a lot of skirting over things and if there's anything that is not explained properly or doesn't make sense, please review and give me some constructive criticism! It will be very much appreciated! I have never written anything before that is such a long, drawn out story, and I can see upon re-reading that I struggled because I was impatient to get to the point, so I am sorry!


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: As always, thankyou to the people who have reviewed, favourited and followed! Since I had no complaints thought I'd upload another chapter! Got plenty already written after all :)

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve**

Hermione knew why everyone around her was concerned about asking her whether she was prepared to discuss Bellatrix's trial.

Ever since she'd been back, she'd swatted away all their attempts to ask her what had happened with the woman, and they had allowed her to, probably thinking she was finding it difficult to talk about.

But the truth was that embarrassingly, it wouldn't have been. The trauma of her torture had been overshadowed by her growing knowledge of how much Bellatrix had suffered. And she couldn't tell them, because she knew they'd think she'd gone mad.

And so she understood why Molly, Andromeda and Narcissa thought she wouldn't want to go. They were wary of a trauma that no longer existed. A wariness that she herself had stoked with her evasiveness.

From the moment the meeting had been proposed, she thought of nothing else for the remainder of the night. She lay awake in her bed playing over what might happen when she went to Malfoy Manor in the morning. She had tried to swat away Molly's insistence that she accompany her, but had eventually had to relent and agree to allow Andromeda to do so instead.

And her mind kept going back to Bellatrix. For the first time, she allowed herself to really consider what had changed inside her when she had been imprisoned. She had found a type of humanity in the depths of herself that she would have been loath to accept existed in anyone. In one way it scared her, in another she was thankful.

The thought of Andromeda accompanying her made the whole thing more complex. Although she was glad it was not Molly, whom she could never have spoken frankly in front of, she had no idea how the woman truly felt about her elder sister.

Andromeda was sure that Narcissa wanted to ask Hermione to not give evidence against Bellatrix at the trial, and she hadn't held back about how much she disagreed with that. The problem was, Hermione knew that there was no way she would give evidence against Bellatrix.

Would Andromeda think that she was crazy? That she had been brainwashed? Maybe she had been. Narcissa's pleas for Bellatrix's case were understandable. She was her sister. But she was nothing to Hermione. Just another human being she had happened to stumble across, and had been forced to feel pity for in the most unexpected way.

She knew that there was a reason she'd made the promise that she had alone in that room with Bellatrix. She could see how broken the woman was… And knowing her own stubborn nature made her inclined to believe that the more involved she got, the less she would be able to control her feelings. She wasn't one to back down, and this was no exception.

So she had to consider that once these confessions left her lips tomorrow, her own emotional state would be irrevocably tied to Bellatrix's fate. It was a difficult decision to make; a decision which she knew would haunt her forever if she got it wrong.

* * *

Hermione awoke just before midday. She had found herself so distracted the night before that she had had to retrieve a sleeping draught at about 4am. She dressed quickly, noting that it had been an incredibly long time since she last had a lie in – the house sounded hauntingly silent without the sound of everyone running around getting ready.

She made her way downstairs and poured herself a glass of water. Andromeda had said that she would come to the Burrow to collect Hermione before they made their way to Malfoy Manor. She turned to lean back against the kitchen side as she drank and almost dropped her glass when she noticed movement.

Andromeda was already sitting at the kitchen table. Hermione slumped back against the counter in relief.

"Morning." She said brightly. Andromeda looked concerned, absent-mindedly wringing her hands. She looked up.

"Are you ready to go? Do you want me to make you something to eat first?" Andromeda asked gently. It sounded as though she was talking to an invalid.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not hungry." She lied. She was anxious to leave and find out what Narcissa had to say.

Andromeda gave her a sad smile. "Okay." She had obviously mistaken her anticipation for nerves.

"I'm fine, don't worry." She said to the older woman, who patted her hand gently and then offered her arm. Hermione took it.

* * *

Hermione had not apparated for a long time, and when they reached the other side she barely had time to look up at the vast, imposing manor before she was closing her eyes, a hand over her mouth, willing herself not to vomit.

Andromeda looked away politely and knocked on the large front door. Almost immediately as she removed her hand, the door opened, as though someone had been standing just on the other side, waiting for a knock.

Surprisingly, it was Narcissa's terrified face that they saw greeting them.

"Come in." she said, standing aside to allow them to enter. She seemed to note Hermione's nauseated expression because she added:

"Is she okay?" Directing the question at Andromeda.

"Im fine… just apparating…" Hermione said confidently. She wondered if she was going to be treated like a scared child the whole time she was here.

Narcissa led them to a large room with windows facing the beautiful grounds. They were bathed in summer sunshine. For all Hermione's concern that she would be reminded of the terrible things that happened within these walls, the view seemed to make that connection impossible.

She indicated armchairs for them to sit, and a table nearby contained tea. Everything seemed so perfectly placed that Hermione wondered if Narcissa had also been up half the night worrying about this meeting.

The tension that filled the room was palpable, and as they all sat down, none of them seemed to know where to look. It was impossible to tell what kind of relationship the sisters had now that the war was over – if they had one at all. They both seemed solemn and concerned. Hermione considered the possibility that they were both simply worried about having to discuss Bellatrix with her, so she took the opportunity to try and quell their fears:

"I didn't thank you, Narcissa, for saving me."

Narcissa's eyes widened as if fearful. "You can't… you shouldn't… No thanks are necessary." She said. She pulled a cup towards her and poured some tea, seeming flustered.

"Shall we just get this over with?" Andromeda said. Narcissa took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what was to come.

"Bellatrix is going to be brought out of her coma." She said matter-of-factly. She sighed, seeming relieved that she had managed to form a coherent sentence. She went on:

"I didn't know who else to turn to. I know that she will be sent back to Azkaban."

Hermione felt little pity for her. There was not an ounce of emotion in her voice. What had she expected?

"Well what did you think would happen?"

Narcissa face fell and tears formed in her eyes.

Andromeda sighed and moved to sit next to her sister dutifully. She took her hand and lowered her voice.

"What would she do if the tables were turned, Cissy? She wouldn't be sitting here crying over you, would she?"

Narcissa allowed her tears to fall at that, and Hermione sat precariously, feeling awfully like she was intruding on a private moment.

Andromeda pulled a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to Narcissa.

"She would never have let this happen to me." Narcissa said, her face in her hands. "She wouldn't have let things get this far if the tables were turned."

Andromeda looked like she was trying to stifle anger.

"You are not responsible for her." She said darkly. Narcissa finally looked up at her sister, her cheeks pink and eyes glistening.

"Do you know what it will do to her going back there?"

"She made her choice, Narcissa. Just like you and I did."

"She never had a choice!" Narcissa countered. Her eyes begged for understanding.

"She did. We all do." Andromeda reached up to tuck her sisters hair behind her ear.

"You can't let this cut you up, Narcissa. It'll kill you."

"Do you want her to die?"

Andromeda looked like she was fighting with herself internally. "Of course I don't."

"Don't you love her?"

Andromeda sighed deeply. "I don't… I don't know, Cissy. She's not… I don't know."

Narcissa buried her face in her hands, and Andromeda rose from her seat to pour tea for Hermione and herself. She passed the younger girl a cup and set her own down heavily, remaining on her feet. She looked annoyed.

"What did you want to ask Hermione then, Narcissa?" She asked.

Narcissa held a hand over her mouth as though she was suffering from shock.

"Please help me." She said, speaking to Hermione as though Andromeda wasn't there. "They can't send her back there and I need someone they will believe to speak out for her. They won't believe me, she's my sister."

Andromeda looked furious, and approached her sister once more.

"Have you lost your mind?! Asking _this_ girl, of all people, to help you?! To help you set free a woman who tortured her… Branded her for life? You're insane Narcissa. You're going the same way as your precious sister!"

Andromeda turned to Hermione and held out her hand, indicating that they should leave.

Hermione shrunk back in her chair. "Wait… I…" But Andromeda interrupted her.

"You owe nothing to anyone Hermione. You don't have to grace her with an answer. Come on."

But Hermione remained seated.

"I know you want to help me." Narcissa said, sounding sure. Andromeda looked at her incredulously.

"How can you sit there and emotionally blackmail her like that? She's just a child! Leave her alone."

"She's not a child. She's of age. She can make her own decisions." Narcissa replied.

There was a silence in the room for a few seconds, then Narcissa spoke again.

"I can see it in your eyes." She said simply. "I know I'm right."

Hermione's heart beat fast. She couldn't imagine what was going through Andromeda's mind, and she had to force the words out as they threatened to not come.

"I will help you."

Andromeda's eyes went wide and Hermione tried to apologise silently to her.

"Hermione." She said in disbelief, but no other words seemed to want to come.

"She's terrified of going back to Azkaban." Hermione said simply. It seemed from the sad, fearful look on Andromeda's face that that wasn't the correct response.

"Oh, Hermione, oh my God. Oh my God." She put her head in her hands as her sister had done earlier, but she wasn't crying, she was panicking.

"You know she's right Andy." Narcissa said gently. The sound of her sister's voice seemed to pull Andromeda out of her frenzy and she stormed over to her, drawing her wand angrily.

"What did you do to her?" She asked threateningly. Hermione jumped up to stand between the two women.

"She didn't do anything to me. Nobody did. I overheard… I saw…"

"Saw what?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer. Her experiences defied explanation.

Andromeda and Narcissa both stared at her. She was struck by the similarities between them both as they looked at her through sad eyes. Eyes she'd seen before… And then she realised what she had to do.

"Do you have a pensieve?"


	14. Chapter 13

Thank you so much to the people who have reviewed/favourited/followed! You have kept this story in the back of my mind. I've come to a part where I am not particularly happy with the next few chapters and so I had editing on my mind... but since I don't really have the time to do that at the moment, and you lot seem satisfied with what i've done so far, I thought i'd just leave it as is for the moment and come back to it later! I have another ten chapters fully written so I'm happy to post them here, just go easy on me, I know the writing is not the best!

* * *

As her memories swirled in the depths of the pensieve, Hermione wasn't sure what she had been trying to achieve. She was sure that her experiences with Bellatrix would cut Narcissa up, but that wasn't saying a lot considering her obviously unstable emotional state anyway.

But Andromeda really did seem to hate her elder sister. There was still a look of steely suspicion on her face as she prepared to witness what Hermione considered to be a fair reason to pardon the woman. She hoped she hadn't written too much into it.

There were two memories which she wanted to show them. The first was the day on which she had seen Bellatrix enter the room next to hers and play piano.

When they entered the surreal world of her memory, she stood close to Andromeda. The woman took her hand, seeming to sense her discomfort. The older woman's hand was clammy but she held on nonetheless. Hermione wondered what part of seeing her sisters made her so nervous.

The three of them stood and watched as memory-Hermione rose from where she lay on the floor and sat up to see what the movement in the corridor was. The flinch when memory-Hermione saw that it was Bellatrix wasn't lost on Andromeda, who squeezed real Hermione's hand tightly. She wished she could give some kind of commentary... She realised how watching this in third person completely sapped it of all emotion. Embarrassment crept over her as she realised this had been an awful idea.

But as Bellatrix approached, they all stepped forward to see her. It was a surreal feeling, leaning over her own shoulder to re-see something she had already witnessed.

And Bellatrix stopped to stare at the door. Hermione followed Andromeda's eyes and saw that she was watching memory-Hermione instead of her sister. Then her eyes snapped up to see her Bellatrix's expression and the briefest shadow of hurt graced her face. She looked like she had a headache. Narcissa stared intently at her sister, her hand raised slightly like she wanted to touch her. And then she disappeared into the room.

"So she looked sad?" Andromeda said flatly.

They moved to one side as memory-Hermione got up from the door and went to sit in her bed.

Real Hermione tried to hide her embarrassment, as she realised the meaning of the memory had been lost on Andromeda. Narcissa remained silent – it clearly hadn't been on her.

"I saw the way you looked at her, Hermione." Andromeda said.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Hypnotising, isn't she? How could anything so beautiful be evil?" Hermione and Narcissa both stared at Andromeda, not quite understanding what she was getting at.

"I always used to catch myself staring at her. Thinking God, what I wouldn't do to be like her... Putting her on a pedestal. It messes with your mind." She continued.

"… And that's why she's so dangerous. She draws you in. You think there's something inside her because of what you see on the outside. But there's nothing there Hermione. She's empty on the inside. She's sick, and she's evil."

Narcissa opened her mouth to respond, but Hermione pointed to indicate herself crouching next to the wall, listening to the music on the other side. They all mimicked her actions and Andromeda looked thoughtful. A sad, knowing smile formed on her lips.

They all followed Hermione to watch Bellatrix storm away down the corridor.

"She's crying." Narcissa said, addressing Andromeda.

"She knows she's going to die… Isn't life hard for her?" Andromeda said sarcastically.

Narcissa frowned at her sister and Hermione had to stop herself from doing so also.

"Do you not remember one second of our childhood?" Narcissa said angrily.

"I try not to." Her sister replied blankly. The irony was, Andromeda had never looked more like Bellatrix in her life than she did in that moment.

"She protected you." Narcissa said bitterly.

"She abandoned me!" Andromeda countered viciously.

The silence that followed was deafening as the memory receded around them.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Andromeda sat down heavily into her armchair like she was too exhausted to stand any longer.

"I'm sorry." Hermione said finally. There was nothing else she could say.

Andromeda shook her head. "No. It's not your fault. None of it. You're a good girl, Hermione. You've done nothing wrong." She leaned forward and took her cup from the table. She drained it and then stood up.

"Right, well, I think that's enough excitement for one day." She said, in an unusual tone. "Lovely to see you Narcissa, as always, but I think we'll be off."

Narcissa had been hovering in the doorway, looking fearful, but now she surged forward to her sister, half lifting her arms like she might embrace her. They fell to her sides as she reached her, but Andromeda took her hand.

"Just let it lie, Cissy. You're only hurting yourself."

"I'm sorry." Narcissa said softly.

"I know." Andromeda leaned forward and kissed her sisters cheek, before turning back to Hermione and holding out her arm.

When they arrived back at The Burrow, all was silent still. Andromeda sat down at the table and Hermione followed her lead.

"I don't know what to say, Hermione. I'm sorry."

Hermione stayed silent.

"You're going to help her, aren't you?" She continued. Her voice held no malice.

Hermione nodded, staring down at her hands.

"Just…" Andromeda sighed. "Just don't get too involved. Make sure you keep one foot out at all times. She'll hurt you."

"I think I can cope with it." Hermione replied. She was being honest rather than argumentative. Andromeda reached for her hand.

"You're very young." She said quietly.

"I need to do it. I won't forgive myself if I don't." Hermione admitted.

"You don't owe anybody anything, Hermione."

"I know that. But it doesn't change how I feel. I can't help but care."

"I used to care too, Hermione. But sometimes it just isn't worth it."


	15. Chapter 14

I have got a few spare days now leading up to christmas and thought I may as well post the chapters I have left, since some lovely people have reviewed/followed/favourited. Thank you to everyone who did!

I apologise once again, this is mostly unedited and was written two years ago now!

* * *

Hermione and Molly sat down for dinner just the two of them. Arthur was working late and there was nobody else around.

Hermione wondered when Andromeda would tell Molly what she intended to do. Ironically, she wasn't nearly as worried about Molly's reaction now that she had experienced Andromeda's. However, she knew trying to explain her reasoning was not going to be fun. She decided that she would wait until the last possible moment to do so – she was aware that explaining to Molly meant explaining to the whole extended family, and all of her friends. It wasn't like it was something she would be able to hide.

"You look distracted." Molly said questioningly. Hermione sighed – the other woman didn't know the half of it.

"Did you know the Black sisters at school?" She asked.

Molly looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Well. I knew _of_ them. Bellatrix and Andy were both a few years below me so I saw them around, but I don't really remember Narcissa – she's quite a bit younger than me. Why?"

"Were they close? Bellatrix and Andromeda I mean."

"Yes. I suppose they were." Molly paused. "Up until Andy met Ted of course."

Hermione nodded, going back to her dinner. After Andromeda's erratic outbursts earlier, she felt lost. There was so much that she didn't know about these women – so many questions she felt she could not ask.

"Why do you ask? Was Andy… okay? Going to Narcissa's, I mean."

Hermione nodded again, knowing there was no way she could tell the truth without having to explain the whole story. "She was fine. Do they speak now? It was hard to tell and I didn't like to ask."

"Narcissa wants to, but Andy's hesitant. I think she thinks that she wants to get back in touch for the wrong reasons."

"Oh?"

"She says Narcissa just wants to stop herself feeling guilty about it all. I guess she's a very lonely woman right now and she's realising what a massive mistake she made."

"She can't have been very old when Andy left though, can she?"

"Probably about thirteen. Andy's spoken about it a lot to be honest… She knows Narcissa was brainwashed. She's not the sharpest tool in the box and she always idolised Bellatrix. But it's still not easy to forgive something like that."

"Hmm."

"Makes you thankful you weren't born into a family like that, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does."

* * *

A few days later, Hermione headed into Diagon Alley. She needed to pick up her books for the upcoming year and had owled Narcissa the previous evening to ask if she would be available to meet. She didn't particularly want to go back to Malfoy Manor alone, and she was 99% sure she wouldn't bump into anyone she knew at this time of year. They would all be returning to Hogwarts today.

She indulged in walking around Flourish and Blotts much more slowly than she would have been able to with her friends or parents, inspecting all the shelves. Thankfully she could forego the usual fittings for new school robes, which increased her budget somewhat.

She lingered in the law section. Molly's allusion to Narcissa's lack of intellectual ability did nothing to help her overriding fear that she was getting herself involved in something that she had no idea how to handle.

She selected a few general books to get her into it and some case history. As if her life wasn't full enough already, she had decided she'd spend a few hours a night acquainting herself with all of the law stuff, and a few hours doing her school work. Every other waking hour after today would be filled with shifts at the hospital. This was a new level, even for her.

She left the bookshop with bags full to the brim and an empty purse, but content all the same. When she approached the coffee shop where she was meant to be meeting Narcissa however, she couldn't ignore a sneaking feeling of nervousness creeping in.

Luckily she arrived first and bought herself a coffee, then she opened one of her books to try and distract herself.

When Narcissa arrived, Hermione saw her out of the corner of her eye as she approached. She was remarkably overdressed for their understated location, but Hermione hadn't expected any less. Narcissa herself, however, looked incredibly uncomfortable as she sat down opposite her, her eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. Then Hermione remembered that Mrs Malfoy was not exactly the world's favourite person right now – she realised she probably shouldn't have picked such a busy location, for her sake. This was not going to be easy.

Hermione offered the woman a drink but she politely declined, still looking shifty.

"It was a bad idea to go through Andromeda, so I'm sorry for that." Narcissa said stiffly.

"Well, at least she knows now." Hermione replied, putting her book away. There was a tension in the air between them that Hermione sensed would take approximately ten years of them sitting like this daily to subside. But she persisted anyway.

"I think we need to talk her round." She continued.

Narcissa just stared at her blankly. "Why?"

"Well because she's someone who was close to Bellatrix before she was insane. And they are few and far between."

Narcissa looked confused. "Bellatrix was never not insane."

Hermione sighed. This was going to be seriously hard work.

"So you're saying that you love a woman who always enjoyed maiming people? From birth? And you expect me to help you win this case?"

Narcissa made a frustrated noise. "She's my sister."

"Right, so what sisterly things did she do for you as a child?"

Narcissa looked horrified. "I don't know! Pulled my hair?"

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. This was like pulling teeth.

"Look, Bellatrix is an evil monster. If you had to think of one nice thing she'd done for you, what would be number one? One singular thing. Just one."

Narcissa bit her lip, looking nervous and frustrated. "She never ever let my mother hurt me."

Her confession made goosebumps erupt on Hermione's skin. In contemplating going into this she had known this moment would come.

"Okay." She said, unable to think of anything more appropriate.

Narcissa refused to meet her eye. "Why do we need Andromeda when we've got you?" She said carelessly.

Hermione decided to let her obvious subject change slide. "Because, as Andromeda said: I'm a child. I am young. I haven't lived and I don't understand life… Anything to that patronising effect. Nobody will take me seriously."

Narcissa half-nodded. She sat back in her chair, only just seeming to realise the magnitude of the situation.

"Did your mother hurt Bellatrix?" Hermione asked carefully.

Narcissa laughed darkly as if Hermione had told a highly inappropriate joke. She was silent for a second, then she sat up straight again.

"Remember when I told you nobody's evil? I was wrong. Our mother was evil."

Once again, Hermione didn't know what to say. Narcissa paused and then went on.

"You probably noticed that my sister seems to revel in people causing her pain. Well. That was always her weapon. My mother would beat her black and blue and she would never cry. Not so much as a sound. She was stubborn... Never liked giving in. And it drove my mother mental. So she'd go all out on her, every time. She hated Bellatrix."

"Why?" There was another pause.

"I guess she'd imagined the daughter she'd have and it wasn't her. She was too clever – too wilful – thought for herself. And my mother tried to quash it but she couldn't. She brought shame on our family."

Hermione grimaced. It was almost too disturbing to be true. She thought back to Bellatrix's bleeding wrists in those ropes and a nausea rose in her stomach.

Narcissa now sagged uncharacteristically in her seat. Hermione wondered how many times she'd said those things out loud before. She presumed not many considering how erratic a revelation it had been.

"I know it's probably not what you want to hear, but I think the only way we'll be able to get Bellatrix a place in a mental hospital is by using that as our argument."

Narcissa still didn't meet Hermione's eyes. "I know."

Another awkward silence stretched between them.

"When they revive her, if she's in good health, she'll have to go to Azkaban until the trial." Narcissa said finally.

"And if she's not in good health?"

"She'll go onto a secure ward."

Hermione remembered how well Bellatrix had looked the day she'd visited her before she left the hospital. Unless things had changed drastically since then, it didn't look good. She could only imagine how Bellatrix would feel about going back to Azkaban.

"Let's hope she's not as healthy as she looks." Hermione said with a sigh.

"You saw her?" Narcissa looked surprised.

Hermione hit herself mentally. "I went to see her when I was in the hospital." She confessed. "She looked very healthy."

Narcissa didn't reply immediately. There was a small smile on her face.

"You really are going to help her, aren't you?" She said.

"I said I would." Hermione replied, trying to keep her voice casual. "What are we going to do about her being sent to Azkaban then? Because I really think if she was on that secure ward it would help us. She'd already have her foot in the door."

"The only real option is to make her ill." Narcissa said. She didn't seem concerned by this. Hermione, however, chewed her lip nervously.

This whole thing was just spiralling out of control.


End file.
